Ad Infinitum
by Fluttering Phalanges
Summary: In the midst of the outbreak, some sparsely governed towns have taken matters into their own hands. Laws are set in. Women forced into marriages with men and used as breeding stock in order to repopulate the world. Daryl Dixon, a survivor, soon finds himself bonded to a young, former farm hand named Beth Greene against their wills. Entering a future that neither had ever expected.
1. Chapter one

**Okay so some brief background on this idea. Basically this takes place in the Walking Dead universe, however it's a little more alternate than that. So as the world struggles to end the apocalypse, several walled in towns begin to pop up across the globe. In a sense, it's like the Dark Ages as there is only communication within the town and its people and not with other towns or the outside world. So due to the rapid decline in the human population, some town governments have resorted to forced marriages and forced reproduction laws. So in most cases, women are being made against their will to have children. That's kind of the overview of what's going on before you get into the story. Alright folks, now enough of my explaining, here is the first chapter!**

Chapter one:

There was something oddly satisfying about a cigarette that Daryl Dixon just couldn't put his finger on. Not that he chose to smoke often, such being hard to come by nowadays. But in this moment, he needed something to clear his mind from any and all thoughts. He inhaled deeply, the object protruding from his lips as the fragmented, earthy smoke invaded his lungs. It felt good, calming in its own way as he withdrew the cigarette and blew a white, rolling mist into the atmosphere, watching as it dissipated into the air. They used to say it caused cancer. That it killed. But now, so much more could do the exact same dreaded task. And this seemed far lesser than many other evils.

He glanced up, eyes following the tall, foreboding structure that stood before him. A wall, completely surrounding the entire perimeter of Hurndon, some weirdly named town in what he assumed was located in what once was Jackson, Mississippi. It seemed like years ago that he had found his way here, belly empty, limbs aching from the miles and miles of walking and running he'd been forced to do. But really, he was nearly positive it had been but eight or nine months. Several years. Years of fighting and escaping the thousands of creatures that began to swallow the once valiant human race whole. An outbreak that had devastated the very likes of history and everything that would follow. Alone he had come here out of desperation, seeking refuge after losing so much. Never realizing that with the end of human kind, came the great loss of humanity.

Daryl took another long drag from his cigarette, mouth twitching into a deep frown as he continued to eye his imprisonment. If he had known back then what he did now, he'd rather join the race of walkers than seek the unholy sanctuary he was located in now. Fear turned people into animals, primitive instincts taking over rational thought. His fingers dug into the palm of his free hand, anger boiling from the pit of his stomach as he glared at the wall. At the incarceration he now called home. Sometimes death was such a better option than being a coward.

"I guess a round of congratulations is in order?"

The voice came from behind, humorless but still holding a tone of friendship. Daryl turned, cigarette withdrawn from his mouth as he met the familiar gaze of Carol Peletier. The woman stood before him, gray hair damp, face slightly dusted with dirt. She was a few years his senior, coming to this place not long before he did. Out of everyone else, she was the only one Daryl consider to be relatively close to a friend. Like him, she too had lost a great deal. A daughter. A husband-a man she'd later share over a half cobwebbed bottle of whisky was nothing more than an abusive son of a bitch. But still, like he had, she had suffered greatly.

"Ain't like this was my choice," he muttered, kicking at a stone that sat before him. "Ain't like I wanted this."

"I know," Carol murmured, eyes following the rock as it tumbled a few feet away. "I'm sorry."

Daryl inhaled heavily, letting the cigarette fall from his fingers before crushing it with his foot. It had only been a few days since he found out, a few days since life as he knew it would change once again forever. It had come in envelope, that's how he knew it was important. No one ever bothered to send him mail, or rather, no one of standard status had the means of acquiring such a form of paper. It had been relatively brief, getting immediately to the point with a date and time as to when his presence was required in the once church, now makeshift house of government. Mandatory. No excuses. Everything had been arranged behind his back and only now was he given the "privilege" to learn his fate.

"She's eighteen," he swallowed, teeth ground together. "She's just a kid."

"It's not right," Carol agreed, looking to Daryl. "None of this is, Daryl. But don't think for one second that because this is happening, you become anything less than of the man you already are. This isn't your fault."

Daryl stiffened, his gaze falling away from his friend. "Ya know what the law is," he whispered. "Ya damn know what we are required to do."

There was no joy in Carol's features, not that Daryl ever remembered having seen a glimmer of it before. She merely nodded her head, arms crossed over her chest. Carol was one of the lucky ones. At her age, she didn't have to worry about the Common Law. Her body was too old, too far in its life to be required to do the tasks the government needed. She'd never have to worry about being placed into a bond. Never have to undergo the horrors of being placed with some stranger. Being forced to reproduce. She was safe, and for that, Daryl was both grateful and envious.

The man's eyes moved, landing on the far off clock that sat in the middle of the town. It was nearly noon, nearly time. His blood ran cold in his veins, limbs feeling numb as he felt Carol's hand rest on his forearm. He looked to her, seeing the sympathetic smile on her features. She pitied him, though he knew he was far from deserving of it. He inhaled deeply, the taste of tobacco still lingering in his mouth.

"You're a good man," he vaguely heard her repeat. "Nobody can take that away from you."

**xXx**

"Adam!"

It was a sense of panic that first riddled Beth Greene's heart as she desperately looked around the bottom floor of the two story house for the toddler. She had, after all, promised Bob and Sasha, two of the several house mates that occupied the home, that she'd watch their eldest son. Frantically, she began to rush through the rooms, peeking under every eligible piece of furniture the tiny tot could possibly squeeze under. For a two year old, he sure had a lot of energy. Something that his mother was sure would get him into trouble as he grew older-which now also seemed to be the case in Beth's current situation.

"Adam," she called, trying to hide the concern in her voice in fear of disturbing the others in the house. "Adam, where-"

It was then Beth's eyes caught something shifting underneath one of the couch throws off to the side. Relief immediately flooded her mind as she hurried over, carefully lifting up the blanket to reveal the bright eyed, giggling little boy that hid underneath. He peered up at Beth, dark eyes innocent and full of excitement as he held his arms out towards her. Rolling her eyes, she lifted him up, shifting his weight in her arms as he hugged her neck tightly.

"Found me!" he sung out, dark hair tickling underneath Beth's chin. "We play again?"

Beth's mouth formed a thin smile, trying to hide her real emotion from the little boy. He was still so young, so naive as to what was happening in the place he had called home all of his life. Adam had never needed to learn what a walker was. To be forced to kill the person he loved because they had either been bit or turned. Learned about what happened when a person became a certain age. Why his games with Beth would be cut prematurely today. Where she was going and why he couldn't join her.

"I'm afraid we can't," Beth murmured, meeting the toddler's gaze. "I gotta go away today."

"Away?" Adam repeated, smiling cheerfully. "I come?"

Beth shook her head sadly, gingerly placing him back onto the floor. "No," she told him. "You have to stay here with your mama and daddy. But don't worry, I'm still gonna visit you lots, alright? An' when I do, we can play anythin' you want."

"We play now," Adam inquired, not fully comprehending Beth's words. "Please?"

"Beth has to go, baby," a voice said from behind.

The girl turned, a hand resting on the toddler's head as she caught sight of the figure standing in the doorway. Sasha smiled softly, arms hooked around the swell of her stomach. Beth tried not to let the concern slip into her features, trying to ignore the haggard expression that masked over the other woman's friendliness. Sasha was sick, very sick. And yet, such did not excuse her from the Common Law's reproduction requirement. Beth had arrived at Hurndon a few months after Adam's birth, Sasha still confined to her bed quarters with one of the guards always on duty, ready to end her existence if her body should fail and the virus set in. And now, only a year later, once again was she made to conceive, despite her near fatal incident with the first of her pregnancies.

"Sasha," Beth said, meeting the woman's eyes. "You should be layin' down."

Adam immediately left his playmate's side and hurried into his mother's arms. It was hard to miss Sasha wince in pain as she lifted him up, ignoring her own well being as she cuddled her son.

"They may make us do many things we don't want," Sasha began, adjusting the hold on her son. "But keeping me in bed is not something I readily plan to follow." She offered Beth a thin smile, her expression lacking the sort of joy she displayed with Adam. "How're you holding up?"

"We do what we gotta right?" Beth replied, exhaling as she let her hands fall to her side. "Besides, Mama always said marriage was an excitin' part of a woman's life. Guess I should be happy, you know? Lookin' at this wrong isn't gonna change anythin'. You an' Bob turned out just fine."

"Bob and I were already together when we came here," Sasha corrected, glancing briefly at Adam as he buried his face into her neck. "We weren't assigned to each other...just pushed to move things further." She looked to Beth, the smile fading from her face. "Beth, you always have a home here. No matter what. If this man, whoever he is, if he ever hurts you..."

"Sasha," she began. "I'll be-"

"You let me or Bob know," Sasha finished, her expression firm. "Just because we aren't related, doesn't mean we're not family."

The words burrowed their way deep into the pit of Beth's chest. She swallowed hard, eyes unmoving from Sasha's. Then slowly, she strolled across the room and pulled the woman into a hug, awkwardly as Sasha was still holding the toddler. For the first time in a few days, the emotions and realization began to cloud Beth's thoughts, overtaking her ability to act as if hope hadn't been lost. That nothing was going to change.

"I'll still visit," she promised, her voice thick. "Nothin's gonna change that."

Sasha murmured something that Beth didn't quite catch, yet her free arm didn't loosen its hold around the girl's waist. Beth's eyes peered over the woman's shoulder, locking on the single analogy clock that the three families that occupied the household were left to rely on. It was nearly noon. Nearly time for her to depart. Her shoulders slumped slightly, a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach as she continued to hold Adam and Sasha close.

"No matter what," she heard Sasha murmur. "You're always family."

**xXx**

The room lacked decoration as one might expect for a traditional wedding. The walls bare, floor void of anything but the planks of wood that graced its surface. Instead of the usual wedding guests, there only sat a panel of three people. The leaders, as they were called, of the town. The people Daryl held responsible for all of the shit that was occurring.

He stood awkwardly beside the girl, unable to bring himself to look at her longer than the few moments he had to. She was young, eighteen as the letter had informed him. Vaguely he remembered seeing her occasionally in town, never having spoke to her as he tended to prefer solitude. All he virtually knew was that her name was Beth and her apparent age, that was it. No time to meet. To somewhat get to know each other. Hell, they had technically only been "engaged" for a few damn days before this occurred.

"Mr. Dixon," one of the men said, adjusting his glasses as he eyed several sheets of paper. "As witnessed in this court, you and Ms. Greene are now, by this law, officially husband and wife. As is done, I must read to you the rules as was sent to you in the letter a few days ago. Requirements, if you will."

Daryl couldn't bring himself to look at Beth, wishing for nothing more than to just disappear. If he had thought it best, he would have run. Abandoned this forsaken town and spared the girl of having to be forced into marriage with him. But he knew that she would've just been carted off to marry someone else. Someone who might not have been as disgusted by this law as he was. Someone who would abuse and ruin her. And the guilt that would stem from that was just not worth leaving.

"As of now, from this present moment on, you and Beth Greene will be living together as a couple. Ms. Greene, as the home you currently reside in already houses three growing families, you will move into Mr. Dixon's quarters seeing as the house only supports two families." The man paused, clearing his throat before continuing. "If you have been using any forms of birth control, though all are already illegal, you are required to stop them instantly. As is stated by the Common Law, Ms. Greene is required to conceive your first offspring by the end of the third month of marriage, or drastic measures will be taken into account."

He felt sick, truly sick. A part of him aching for his crossbow stored underneath his bed frame in order to kill each one of the officials who sat pleasantly before them. This was wrong. Disgusting. For the first time, Daryl found himself peering over at Beth, surprised that she had maintained an expressionless face throughout the whole proceeding of this ordeal. Didn't she realize what was happening? What they were being made to do?

"Divorce is not allowed by the Common Law," the man continued. "If either of you should meet the fate of death, another marriage will be rearranged within the same week. All child of the previous marriage will be allowed to stay with the new family."

Rage twisted and unfurled inside of Daryl as the man calmly straightened the papers into one neat pile. It was as if he was a robot. As if he didn't feel or care of the pain he forced each couple into with this damn "Common Law". He drew in a breath from his nose, fingers digging into the flesh of his palm as the three individuals looked from Daryl to Beth, none uttering a single word or even an expression of regret.

"In a month we will contact you again," one finally said. "And check up on your progress. Until then, you are now free to leave. Ms. Greene, as was already made aware to you in your letter, you will have your begs at Mr. Dixon's home by tonight. Until our next meeting, everyone will now adjourn."

The three people rose, abandoning their seat as they moved towards the back of the structure. Daryl stood motionless, a numbing feeling spreading throughout his entire body as realization sunk in. He looked, gaze falling on the woman beside him. She stared back, their eyes finally locking onto one another's since they had entered the government house. Since they had been wed. They were together now in this. Bound by law. Sewn by marriage.

And for the first time in his life, Daryl Dixon felt true fear.

**I hope you all enjoy. I really like the idea I have for this story, I hope you all do too. Let me know any thoughts you may be having in the comments. Feedback is greatly loved and appreciated. If people seemed to like the concept as well, then I will post the next chapter tomorrow. And yes, those were the same Bob, Sasha, and Carol as from the show (in case anyone was curious about the Bob and Sasha characters, Carol I don't think as much). Until then, have a great night or morning! -Jen**


	2. Chapter two

**Wow, I definitely was not expecting such a grand response with the first chapter! Huge thanks to Dixongurl, Jesspanda, LolaRitaVida, Kshawbee, sillymommy2010, An Amber Pen, Guest, Guest, cobrien230, kevkye, casinovixon081212, goshbirdie, Kiji999, AliceInLa-La-Land1215, TWDFan05, breathingforbethyl, heatherrk, EmLouD, and Guest for the fabulous feedback messages left for the last chapter! Now onward to the next chapter!**

Chapter two:

The atmosphere was far from anything related to a sense of joy as the newlywed couple began the unsettling journey back to Daryl Dixon's household. There had been no reception. No best man speech. Or even a sliver of a piece of cake. Hell, he hadn't even uttered a word to Beth since they'd left the government building. The walk had been in complete silence, the only sound being the occasional crunch of a leaf under one of their feet as they went. He couldn't bring himself to even glance at Beth, nor find the words to offer her a hand with the bulky, old suitcase she had been provided to transport what few belongings she owned. He felt sick. Disgusted. The words of the Common Law swirling aimlessly around in his mind as they entered through the front door of the two story house.

Morgan Jones, one of the occupants of the group home, looked up from his book as Daryl and Beth entered over the threshold. He was an older man, maybe in his late forties, who had been living in Hurndon since early on in its creation. Dark skin, dark eyes, he had a teenage son, Duane, and a wife, Jenny, who had accompanied him to this place. Jenny, like Carol, had been saved from the Common Law. At some point before the outbreak, she'd had surgery that left her incapable of producing any more children. She was one of the lucky ones. Something, Daryl realized early on, like most women, did not take for granted.

"You must be Beth," Morgan said, his mouth forming a thin smile as he looked to the newest resident. "Daryl informed us a few days ago that you'd be joining us." He paused, his eyes scanning her over before he nudged his novel aside. "You know Bob right? Lived with his family down a ways?"

For the first time since they had met, Daryl noted a faint glimmer of happiness in Beth's eyes. "Yes," she answered, adjusting her hold on the suitcase. "Bob and Sasha took me in when I first arrived here. It's been about a year and half or so, I think."

Morgan nodded, "Good man, Bob. He and I work together on the wall. Reinforcin' and such. Thought your name sounded familiar when I first heard it." The man inhaled, folding his hands together on top of the table. "Well make yourself at home, Beth. Dinner's usually around five or six, wake up's at seven in the morning-earlier if you have work. We're pretty lenient here, not sure what it was like where you came from. Everyone's pretty much friendly," he smirked, eyes flickering onto Daryl. "Even Daryl has his moments."

Daryl could feel Beth's eyes watching him as he chose to stare forward. Thankfully only Morgan seemed to be home right now, the man's family and the other group supposedly out. More than anything, he craved to be alone. To have time to get his thoughts together, come up with some sort of plan. He had, after all, just been informed that he was to impregnate this stranger within the next several weeks after their initial introduction. Beth was young, still a kid by some standards of the word. And here he was, held against his own will to take away that life from her. Force her into the strides of parenthood seemingly without a second thought. And with her, he too would go.

"Gonna take her upstairs and get her situated," he mumbled, not bothering to address Beth directly.

"Jenny scrounged up some extra blankets," Morgan informed him. "Think she left 'em on the bed before she took Duane out to the garden. They're movin' ration night a day early this week. Probably because the weather doesn't look promisin'."

The thought of having few fresh vegetables with their usual can or two of tuna fish or soup offered little comfort to the archer as he led Beth up the long staircase. While Morgan and his family had the bottom floor and the other having claim to the top, Daryl was left to occupy the attic. It was spacious enough, something he had appreciated, but now that Beth was here, the open room offered little to no privacy. And having to use a ladder rather than be given the luxury of stairs would most likely prove hard for her when the time came to "provide for the Common Law".

He climbed up first, moving to grab Beth's bag from her hands before she too joined him. It was rather dark, considering that a lamp was the only source of light besides the small, triangular slotted window that loomed over the room. The heat was rather uncomfortable as well, seeing as opening airways to the outside was impossible due to the structure of it all. Nevertheless, it did its job well and at least offered some solidarity from the rest of the household. Daryl inhaled, placing Beth's bag off to the side as he went to move everything that Jenny had indeed left for them on the bed.

"It's nice," Beth commented, addressing Daryl for the first time since their wedding. "It's all ours?"

He nodded, not uttering a word as he began to place the clean towels onto rickety bedside table. Showers were every other day, a limit of five minutes per every person in a home. It didn't leave you time to do much other than wash, but at least it was better than nothing. Daryl shoved aside some of the washcloths, the sound of Beth walking around the room meeting his ears. He didn't bother turning however, just merely left her to do what she so chose. It was what little freedom he could offer her now.

"I spent nearly two years sharin' a room with a toddler," she said, fingers brushing curiously against the lamp. "I think this'll be a nice change. I promise not to take too much of your space up. I don't have a lot of things..." When Daryl still did not respond, the small smile faded away from her expression. "I know this isn't what we both wanted, but that doesn't mean we can't make it work." With that, she abandoned her exploration, moving until she stood right in front of Daryl, forcing him to finally meet her stare. "Don't think we properly met," she said, mouth twitching into a thin, but friendly smile. "I'm Beth."

He couldn't understand how she could be so cheerful. So friendly to him after they both knew what soon was to come. Nevertheless, he took her hand, shaking it briefly before letting their fingers break apart. Her skin was soft, palms delicate unlike his calloused on. Despite everything she must've gone through to get here, it was as if her hope in humanity hadn't only not died, but grown stronger. A realization that both confused and even slightly angered the bowman.

"Daryl," he muttered. "You can have the bed. I'll jus' sleep on the floor."

"I don't mind taking the floor," Beth offered, watching as he moved to take some of the blankets and a pillow to the far corner of the room. "You were here first."

"Don't matter," he mumbled. "Used to the floor anyway. Bed's yours."

They may be married now and forced to share living quarters, but that didn't mean they also had to share the same bed. Daryl frowned as he began to flatten the old, tattered blanket on the floor. He'd slept in worse before, always being on the run before coming to Hurndon. At least the floor, though hard, lacked the rocks and sticks of the outdoors. He'd manage for now until he could come up with something easier on his back later.

"Did you come here alone?" Beth inquired, returning to her bag as she began to unpack. "To Hurndon?"

"Yeah," he muttered, not offering any sort of explanation in reply. "By myself."

She nodded thoughtfully, retrieving a pair of folded clothes from the pack. "I lived on a farm with my parents, sister, and brother before everythin' happened. Daddy was a veterinarian, used to fix up animals real good before all of this... Then the walkers came...we had it under control at first, but..."

Her voice trailed off, Daryl pausing what he was doing when she fell momentarily silent.

"Soon it was just me, Daddy, and Maggie. Barn caught fire and then the house. We were forced to run... I don't know what happened to them. I looked but the world's kinda a big place." Her voice, though cheerful, had begun to develop an undertone of sorrow. "So I ended up here. Been here ever since." She inhaled, letting out the breath in a quick sigh. "What about you?" Beth inquired, looking over to Daryl. "What's your story?"

"Same as everyone else's," he muttered, adding the final touches to his sleeping area. "Nothin's worth addin' anymore."

The conversation soon fell after that, Beth finishing up her unpacking without offering another word to Daryl. The atmosphere was tense, awkward as the two moved around each other to situate their various belongings. Upon the task's completion, they abandoned the attic and headed back down the ladder and to the steps. It was nearing dinnertime now and most of the occupants had begun to return from their daily activities.

"Beth, right?" A woman asked, her dark ringlets pulled back into a bun. "Jenny Jones, it's a pleasure to finally meet you." Daryl watched as Jenny strode forward, immediately pulling the girl into a hug. Surprisingly, Beth didn't seem to stiffen in the slightest, merely returning the gesture as warmly as if this had been someone she'd known for years. "You both found the towels and things I left for you?"

"We did," Beth assured her. "Thank you, we appreciate the gesture."

"It was the least I could do," Jenny said with a smile. "Didn't want you to have to walk out of the shower stark naked. Made that mistake when I first came here. Left the towels all the way downstairs. Bathroom's on the second floor in case Daryl hasn't given you a complete tour yet." She looked to Daryl, her face holding a smile while her features read sympathy. "I think Donna's making chicken noodle for dinner tonight. It's usually whatever the first can she grabs. Have you met Donna and Allen yet?"

She shook her head no and Jenny nodded in response.

"Donna and Allen are the other family that lives here. They have two sons currently, twins. Billy and Ben are good boys...can be a little rambunctious, but most children their age are. You'll meet everyone soon enough. It probably doesn't help much just to hear the names without actually seeing them," she inhaled, clasping her hands together. "Morgan's out back loading firewood with our son, Duane. If you both wouldn't mind setting the table while I help Donna..."

"No, of course not," Beth interjected. "I like havin' somethin' to do."

"Wonderful," Jenny exclaimed. "It'll be nice having the extra help around here. I know it can get a little crowded, but we all make it work."

Daryl watched as Morgan's wife exited the room, heading into the small kitchen to join the other woman, Donna. He wasn't particularly close to Allen and his wife, not that he had issues with either of them, just wasn't much for talking. Morgan he spoke some to, the man having similar viewpoints to his own. In all, he got along with the others, occasionally entering a board game or two with the three boys whenever it was readily available. And he helped out wherever he could, content with being able to contribute to the home. They were, after all, the few people he found himself able to stand.

"They seem really nice," Beth commented, pulling Daryl from his train of thought. "Makes the homesickness not seem so bad."

An inkling of guilt twisted its way inside of the archer's chest at her words. Clearly Beth was already missing those she once lived with. Which was, in its own way, a sign that maybe they'd been really good to her. Morgan seemed fond of one of the families and Daryl knew from experience he had a way to judge the character of those around him. Exhaling, he merely nodded in response, eyes flickering to the dining room. He wasn't feeling particularly hungry, his mind elsewhere, but knew it best to eat. Food was, after all, in low supply and getting it while you could was important if anything else.

"C'mon," he muttered to Beth. "We'd better do as you promised or Jenny'll give me an earful."

Those had been the most words he'd spoken to Beth for the entire day. She looked to him, nodding her head as she followed the bowman into the dining room. Ceramic plates. Plastic silverware that was not made to be washed as much as it had been. Nothing was of great value, all that had been being taken up by the government. Used as a sort of economic system to back up what little money was used and spent.

When dinner was finally served, the now nine occupants of the house sitting down for the first time together, introductions were finished and everyone began to eat. Daryl stirred his soup absently with his spoon, watching as Billy argued with his brother about the rules of some game they had created. He couldn't help but briefly think about that soon enough, there might be a fourth child sitting at the table. One that didn't belong to either of the two existing families. His stomach twisted, eyes flickering over to Beth as she consumed her own meal preoccupied.

Had it really only been hours since he'd been outside that day, smoking a cigarette? Now he was married. Had a wife. Swallowing hard, he brought the spoon to his mouth, finally indulging in a few bites of his meal. He didn't feel sorry for himself, finding it almost irritating that others seemed to feel it for him. He felt loathing. Self disgust. If anyone deserved to feel anything, it was Beth. After all, she had been given the short end of this all.

Once supper had been completed and the dishes cleaned with what little water they were rationed, everyone retired for the night. Daryl stood in the attic, awkwardly facing a corner of the room as Beth changed into her night clothes. They were married and if the government eventually had their way, in time he'd see her body in its entirety. But for now, such was not the case. She deserved her privacy. Deserved a lot more than what had been handed to her. And though they had not known each other but for a few hours, Daryl knew Beth was good. That Beth was someone he hadn't encountered for awhile. She had hope, faith, where he had lost his so long ago.

"You can turn around now," she said. "I'm decent."

He turned, feeling a little awkward doing so. Before him she stood, wearing a nightgown that was clearly two sizes too large for her thin frame. The government didn't take too much consideration when it came to issuing clothes-some of Daryl's being stained and torn when they came into his possession. Nevertheless, she still managed to look presentable. Blonde hair falling back over her shoulders, lips curved into a small smile. After a long moment, he adverted his gaze, feeling as if it was awkward staring at her too long without a word.

"Bed creaks," he mumbled, focusing on a nail that protruded out of the wall. "Jus' wanted to let you know. Ain't want it catchin' you off guard or nothin'."

Beth nodded, taking a seat on the edge of the mattress. "Are you sure you don't wanna sleep here?"

"Slept in worse places than the floor," he muttered, glancing down at the blankets near his feet. "I'll manage."

He watched as her chest rose when she inhaled, hands resting in her lap as she watched him. "I like to sing," she said, meeting his gaze. "Sang a lot before the outbreak."

At first, he was caught slightly off guard by how random of a response it was. But he soon figured it was just her way of trying to start a conversation. The archer exhaled, finally settling down on the mass of blankets and pillow. He wasn't much in the mood for talking, exhaustion finally creeping over him the trials of that day. He turned on his side, facing the wall as darkness crept over the dimly lit room.

"Daryl?"

The corners of his mouth twitched into a small frown. He turned slightly, noticing that Beth was still watching him from the spot on the bed.

"I know that none of this is what you wanted," she said quietly. "But I hope we can be friends. I don't have many here and you don't seem to neither, so maybe we could try or somethin'. I don't know." She paused, her eyes still fixed on him as he turned away, facing the wooden wall once more. "Goodnight, Daryl."

The last of the light disappeared, Daryl assuming Beth had turned off the lamp. He lay there in silence, eyes focused on the wall before him. He didn't deserve Beth, not after everything he'd done. Exhaling, he finally allowed his eyes to close, the tendrils of sleep beginning to wound their way around his consciousness, tugging him into a dreamless state that would momentarily let him escape from his reality. Escape from the obstacles he and Beth would soon face. And for a few moments, Daryl Dixon found peace. Unaware that soon, such would be much harder to find.

**I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I promise they will get more exciting and more drama intensive. Especially as Daryl and Beth become more acquainted and things based on the "Common Law" ensue. For those who were curious, the other family mentioned in here (Donna, Allen, and the twins) are from the Walking Dead comic series. Feedback is greatly loved and appreciated! Let me know what your thoughts and and what you'd like to see! Until next update! -Jen**


	3. Chapter three

**First off, before I begin as usual, I just wanted to clarify a misconception about a piece in the last chapter. The twins, Billy and Ben, are five year olds. Not teenagers. I didn't want anyone to think there would be some drama between one of them and Beth. So anyone, a tidal wave of gratitude to DarylDixon'sLover, sammxhill, Kshawbee, Hiiri 25, Dixongurl, bluebook1496, casinovixen081212, NoAlias, Jesspanda, NanamiYatsumaki, jaimek45, TWD, Saffia, cobrien230, Guest, Jenny, TWDFan05, Mione788, EmLouD, An Amber Pen, Guest, Scifigirl22, Nachasita, SweetSeductionCherryB, FebruarySong, Emma Kellog, Anara, kevkye, Spoonlicker, UnwrittenLanguage, goshbirdie, bonesandbooth4ever, and heatherrk for the incredible, inspiring feedback messages left for the last chapter! And much thanks to those who have followed and favorited this story as well! Now, for the next installment!  
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Chapter three:

Despite seven days of consistency, the muscles in Daryl's back still knotted and ached in protest as he slowly roused from his position on the floor. He blinked, drowsiness still lingering throughout his body as he peered around the shadowed interior of his room. From what he could tell, it was still dark outside-probably around five in the morning if he'd had the luxury of a clock to inform him of such. Grunting, he forced himself up onto his elbows, peering around the bedroom until his eyes landed on the form occupying the bed. Beth. Though it was too dark to make her out clearly, Daryl could still identify the mass of hair that messily draped itself over the pillow. She was lost to the world. Fast asleep while a very select few began to awaken in the town.

The archer stood up quietly, mentally cursing himself as the floorboards creaked under his weight. Had it really already been a week since his marriage to Beth? Time seemed to have passed by without his acknowledgement. Folding and intertwining into a haze that left him muddled in his thoughts. A week meant that now only eleven left to fulfill the first tier of the Common Law. His gut twisted at the thought, the familiar sickening feeling finding him once more as he shrugged on a wrinkled pair of pants and shirt that had been lying in a nearby corner. He ignored the faint smell of sweat that lingered on his outfit-vaguely remembering that Beth had done the laundry earlier that week and clean clothes were currently available if he so chose-as he quietly exited the attic and headed down the steps.

He passed Morgan on his way out to the door, the other man sitting at the kitchen table eating a small serving of oats in cold water. He looked to the bowman, nodding his head in greeting as he spooned another mouthful past his lips. Like Daryl, Morgan too had responsibilities that day. From what he had heard in passing, the northern wall of Hurndon was lacking in reinforcement, a few walkers seen getting a little too close for comfort. Such was in need of immediate repair, a job Daryl was somewhat thankful he hadn't been assigned to.

"Not hungry?" Morgan inquired, eyes following Daryl as the man slipped his worn shoes on. "Left the oatmeal out, thought you'd like somethin' in your system."

"Ain't a mornin' person," he mumbled, fumbling with his laces before taking a hold of his crossbow. "Probably grab somethin' for lunch later."

Morgan nodded, stirring his own meal around with his silverware. Momentarily, his gaze flickered over to the weapon in the archer's hands. Daryl noticed as the other man's lips twitched into the softest of frowns, his hand stilling its motion. The bowman braced himself, far from in the mood to hear Morgan's words of advice right now. He was exhausted, sleep still tugging relentlessly at his frame as he attempted to remain in control of his consciousness.

"You know they don't like it when you carry that around," he muttered. "If you aren't careful, they'll confiscate it and have it thrown in the arsenal."

"Don't give a damn what they ain't like and do," Daryl replied, his voice gruff as he adjusted the bow over his shoulder. "Jus' because we're trapped in this shit hole, don't mean I ain't gonna protect myself. Can't ignore the fact that they're still herds lurkin' outside the border. Can't afford to."

"Just be careful, Daryl," Morgan warned as the other man headed towards the house's entrance. "You know what happens to people who anger the leaders."

Daryl gripped the door handle, turning it open with a quick flip of his wrist. He didn't bother turning back to offer a reply to Morgan. Not that the other man had meant in harm with his warning, he realized that. But his mood had plateaued below baseline for the entirety of the last few days, making it difficult for anything of friendly means to escape from his mouth. Which deep down he knew wasn't fair to let escape in front of the people he cared about-or by default was beginning to-but thinking and reacting were two very different actions. Both of which the archer needed to work on.

The air was surprisingly cool when Daryl stepped out into the morning, the streets empty as he made his way towards the south edge of Hurndon. There construction had begun to work on building new houses for the potential rise in the town's population. Of course, it had been a few months since anyone new had been let into the town. Most citizens having been born rather than brought in from the outside. Last week a baby had been born to some couple within the area-Daryl only hearing word of it as the father happened to be one of the construction workers on the current house project he was involved in. Mostly it went unnoticed, the archer not bothering to involve himself in what few described as "joyous occasions".

"Mornin'," a man-Abraham if memory served Daryl correctly-greeted as the bowman entered into the skeleton of the structure. "Glad to see you finally decided to join us."

Abraham, a man Daryl gathered was near to his own age, had been a member of Hurndon for nearly as long as Morgan and his family. He greatly followed rules and structure, his previous life, the archer assumed, having involved some military career or something. Though it was somewhat evident he didn't exactly agree to everything the councilmen of Hurndon had to say. He had a wife, Rosita-who, as Beth had been with Daryl, assigned to him if rumors proved truthful, and a couple of kids with another on the way. He and the bowman were civil to say the least, which was in most cases better than nothing.

"Sorry," Daryl muttered, leaving his bow to rest against the side of a beam. "Got to bed late last night."

The other man didn't respond, but rather pointed to a crudely done set a blueprints on a makeshift table. Daryl was no architect, had barely finished high school for the matter. But in an apocalypse, there really was no picking and choosing when it came to people right for the position. He was thankful to be given an opportunity at least that didn't involve medical or anything else of that domain. And it was, after all, nice to have something to do that would momentarily focus his thoughts elsewhere.

"Change of plans," Abraham stated, not bothering to look to Daryl and the others as he hammered a nail into a beam. "Government met up with me yesterday, wants the house three floors instead of the original two. Attic's been thrown out. They wanna take larger families into consideration."

The words made Daryl internally cringe at the mention. Not that it would take a third of the time longer to construct this add on, but that the leaders were "anticipating" a larger population growth. He grabbed a saw, letting his thoughts abandoned the topic of Beth as he began to work along side the others. Wood chips and debris scratched his face, pricking his flesh as he continued to work through the morning and into the lunch hour. Protection gear was not offered to those considered "unworthy". Only guards were given any means of true consideration.

As he began to sand the sawed off structure, he was taken slightly aback when Abraham approached him. For a moment, he wondered if perhaps his work had not met the military man's standards when Abraham nodded towards one of the unfinished entrances. Slightly confusion began to fester in the archer's mind as Abraham inhaled, arms folding over his chest.

"You got a visitor," he stated. "Your wife's here."

"My wife?" Daryl inquired, momentarily drawing a blank at the word choice before the realization sunk in. "Beth?"

He abandoned his spot, moving towards the directed entrance to see, much to his astonishment, the girl standing inside of one of the rooms. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a ponytail, fingers curled around what looked like a brown sack as she gazed intently at the unfinished structure before her. When she heard Daryl's steps, she turned, mouth forming a small smile as she held out the bag towards him.

"I went out today," she explained, eyes following him as he hesitantly took the object from her. "Visitin' some people an' I remembered that you probably forgot to bring yourself somethin' to eat," her expression was somewhat sheepish as he opened the package's flaps. "After spendin' time with a person, you begin to notice their habits."

Daryl's stare rested on her briefly before his attention was drawn to the bag's contents. It wasn't much, though meals were far from that nowadays. A few peanuts, a quarter of a cucumber, and a piece of what looked like a homemade slab of bread. Carefully he redid the flaps, gaze falling back to Beth as he held his lunch within his hands. No one had ever really bothered to bring him something before, Daryl's caloric intake usually consisting just of dinner. Not to say that he was never not hungry, but more of had gotten used to the feeling even after joining Hurndon.

"You didn't have to do that," he muttered. "I ain't expectin' you to go all housewifey since we're...you know..."

"Like I said," Beth reiterated. "I was already out. And honestly, it wasn't an inconvenience in the least bit. I'm happy to bring you food. Don't need you starvin' yourself after all." She paused, eyes wandering over to the main entrance. "Do you...do you have time to sit outside for a moment?"

The air was warm as Daryl exited the house for the first time since that morning, the atmosphere seeming a little more lively than it had been earlier. He led Beth over to a bench that one of the constructor workers had crudely created at some point prior to now, taking a seat as she joined him at the spot. For her sake, he opened up the bagged lunch, pulling a small piece of bread out before placing it into his mouth. It was sweet, much softer than anything he'd consumed in awhile. Until now, he'd forgotten how much he missed the simplistic things such as loaves and rolls.

"I'm bein' assigned to the garden," Beth mentioned, attempting to start a conversation. "Gives us first pickin' rights on ration day."

"Guess that's a positive way to look at it," Daryl replied, plucking another piece off of the slab before holding it out towards Beth. "You want any?"

She shook her head. "I ate with Sasha and Adam," she explained. "My previous housemates? First time I've seen 'em since...the ceremony. Adam missed me bunches, took me outside to see all of the rocks he's been collectin'. Nothin' pretty mind you, but it's good to find the beauty in the easily forgotten things, y'know?"

Daryl shrugged, tearing another piece of bread off. He didn't see beauty in much of anything anymore. Even before the outbreak, the archer struggled to find charm and fascination with anything that reasonably deserved it. Exhaling, he looked to Beth, watching as she messed with a loose strand of her jean fabric. Despite everything that had happened. The forced marriage. Being taken away from the people she cared about. The girl was making a conscious effort to get along with him. To become friends. Something he had yet to work on himself. Something he struggled to bring himself to do.

"I noticed your crossbow," she said, meeting his gaze. "It's lovely."

"Look," he exhaled, annoyance slipping into his tone. "You don't gotta be sarcastic-"

"I wasn't," Beth interrupted. "I really meant it. You've taken good care of it. Things always look better when they're treasured by someone."

She was sweet, far too kind for perhaps her own good. And he was far from deserving of it. He exhaled, setting the bag aside as he gazed out into the street. Attitude wise, he and Beth were complete opposites. She held hope, much more faith than he ever had. Life from the beginning had always been difficult for the bowman, having to toughen up from an early age. But kindness didn't mean Beth was weak. Like him, she had found her way here. Survived. And though he hadn't seen it yet, he had a feeling there were varying sides to Beth Greene that had yet to surface themselves.

"Sorry," he apologized, nudging a stone with the toe of his foot. "I ain't much good with words, understandin' them much less."

"That's alright," Beth assured him, her mouth still forming that damn, friendly smile that caused the guilt in his chest to rise. "I'm not so good neither." She exhaled, hands folding in her lap. "To tell you the truth," she murmured. "I kinda wanted to talk to you. Been thinkin' about it for a few days. Sure you must be too. An' eventually one of us needs to say it." He watched as she swallowed hard, clearly uncomfortable as she tried to formulate her next statement. "I don't know you very well, an' you don't know me, but the government..."

"No," Daryl interrupted, realization suddenly striking him when he figured out what she was getting at. "We ain't gotta do none of that. We can figure out another way."

"It's been a week," Beth said, the cheerful nature of her tone suddenly slipping away. "An' they didn't give us much time. I don't..." her voice trailed off, Daryl noticing that she was visibly trembling. "We do what we need to to survive."

"This ain't a matter of survivin'," Daryl growled, his heart beginning to beat faster. "This is twisted politics. They don't gotta right to...to force us into somethin' like this." He inhaled, fingers digging into the flesh of his palm. "I won't do that to you."

Beth merely shook her head, her mouth curving into a sorrowful smile. "We don't have that kind of choice." She swallowed again, her breath rattling with emotion as she inhaled once more. "I don't have that kind of choice."

The words struck Daryl hard, the archer not entirely realizing the severity on Beth's part until now. He looked to her, his eyes fixating on her blue ones. Whether he openly chose to, willfully or not, to conceive a child with Beth, the girl would eventually fall pregnant no matter what. It was corrupted that way, those who were obedient and chosen as guards more than willing to assist in such productions on the side. Rape was far from rare despite there being a silence about it. The leaders gave the guards leeway to whatever made them happy. Immunity granted to those who were willing to serve without question.

"We got time," he muttered, unable to meet Beth's gaze as he looked towards the street once more. "Still got time. I'll-"

Daryl's words were cut short when the sight of a man running frantically in their direction invaded his vision. The figure's face was drawn, a look of pure fear masking his expression as he barreled down the street. Seemingly unaware of his surroundings, it was no surprise when he missed the slight outcrop of the road and tumbled to the ground. Beth was instantly on her feet, hurrying over to the figure while Daryl forced himself to rise. The man was panting, eyes wild as he let the girl pull him back upright.

"Are you okay?" Beth inquired, concern sleeping into her tone. "Are you-"

"The wall," the figure stuttered, his voice trembling as he gripped Beth's forearms. "The north wall! The...the reinforcement failed. They're breaching through!"

"Who?" Daryl asked, eyes flickering from Beth to the building where his crossbow was resting inside. "Whose breaching?" The man was sniveling now, appearing absolutely terrified as he struggled to get out the one word that caused Daryl's heart to momentarily stop.

"Walkers."

**A somewhat cliff hanger in more ways than not. Though walkers are rather terrible, I personally think that the real fear is the government's reaction to the poor workmanship, though possibly accidental, that caused the breach in the first place. Meaning workers such as Morgan might have a lot more to worry about than the prospect of getting bit. Just a thought to slip into your minds. Anyway, feedback is greatly loved and appreciated! I would love to know your thoughts. I plan for a lot more Beth and Daryl interaction next chapter, especially since there rather serious conversation was momentarily interrupted. Until next update, folks! -Jen**


	4. Chapter four

**I am so, so overwhelmingly grateful for the amount of support this story has received! So as usual, with the greatest amount of thanks that can be put into words, a hurricane of gratitude to DarylDixon'sLover, Dixongurl, An Amber Pen, cherrywineBA, delenamashed, Atilia Dawn Black, TWDFan05, Erika, Guest, sillymommy2010, Scifigirl22, JElysha11, goshbirdie, ledanna, Kshawbee, sammxhill, MamaDCB, rebecca taylor, Emma Kellog, A-cat-in-the-dark, McAlice92, deedee014, jbolinex, EmLouD, Jesspanda, PolkaDotSocks93, TWD, Aeralyse, ignatz, Nacha, kevkye, Arabella, and FebruarySong for your incredible, all inspiring comments left for the previous chapter! And much thanks to those who have alerted and favorited as well! Now enough of my chatter, onto the next installment!**

Chapter four:

It was the same, familiar surge of adrenaline that Daryl Dixon remembered distinctly from the early days of the outbreak. When he had no place to call shelter and being nomadic was the only form of survival that was readily available. The man still knelt before him on the ground, weeping softly as Beth continued to hold him in place. The archer glanced behind him, back to the entrance of the unfinished home. His mind was a blur, thoughts being fired simultaneously as he tried to formulate a plan. And before he realized it, he had begun to run, legs carrying him back into the structure where his crossbow waited against the wall. He grabbed it, throwing the heavy weapon over his shoulder before stepping back into the open.

"Where are you goin'?" He heard Beth call out, feeling her stare burn into the back of his neck as the distance grew between them. "Daryl!"

"Go on back to the house," he called. "Tell 'em to lock the door."

"I'm not leavin' you!" She exclaimed, abandoning her position by the frightened man's side in favor of the bowman. "I won't let you go alone."

He momentarily paused in his tracks, eyes meeting the girl's. Beth gazed back at him, expression firm and stance unwavering. There was no fear in her features, no hesitation to be seen masking her face. Briefly, Daryl forgot that this woman was his wife. That he'd only known her for a week. That the cheerful, hopeful girl he'd begun to become acquainted with had suddenly disappeared, replaced by a figure that understood survival. Who wasn't afraid to fight. Didn't cower at the mention of danger. Had a strength to her that only now was beginning to become apparent to the archer. He inhaled, teeth baring down on the inside of his cheek until the sour taste of blood melted across his taste buds.

"I'm not leavin' you," she repeated.

His shoulders slumped slightly in defeat, his ability to argue against her reasoning dissipating. "Keep up," he muttered, eyes flickering to the path ahead of them. "I ain't gonna be no babysitter."

Daryl could feel his heart pounding against his ribcage as he and Beth hurried down the asphalt walkway. Blood pulsated through his veins, thudding against his eardrums as the distant sound of a bell ringing managed to break its way through the unnerving noise. Warning system. The memory of being informed of the various alerts the town used vaguely graced the archer's mind as he continued to head towards what was most likely impending danger. It was stupid really, resorting to loud noises when walkers best responded to auditory simulation. But other interests trumpeted the thoughts of how, in more ways than less, Hurndon could improve as a community in whole. Morgan was at the northern wall and though he and Daryl were far from close, the archer felt obligated to assist him, knowing the man would do the same if the roles were reversed.

"Got anythin' on you," he panted, not looking to Beth as they approached the breached location. "Knife. Gun. Anythin' you can damn well use to protect yourself?"

"No," she admitted, her tone somewhat sheepish. "Didn't think bringin' you lunch would turn into a fight with walkers."

He exhaled heavily at her response, aggravation briefly sweeping over him. Though it was far from Beth's fault, he still found annoyance in the fact that she was more than willing to aid in the situation despite being unprepared. However, the thought soon slipped from his mind as his vision caught sight of the scene before them. From the slope they stood on, the unfinished section of the northern wall lay before them. But where it normally was secured with scrap metal and planks of wood, a gap seemed to have formed where the reinforcement had given way. Creating a small, but wide enough entrance to the outside world.

Walkers, at least ten or twelve based on the archer's rough count, had already slipped through. They moved as if their bodies were weighed down by some unknown force. Bony, leprous fingers reaching forward towards the workers that were armed with nothing more than a few hammers and shovels. Daryl tugged the crossbow from his shoulder, loading and releasing an arrow into one of their skulls as the creature attempted to claim a victim. The man he'd saved stumbled backwards, looking to Daryl in gratitude before his attention was immediately drawn back to the scene before them.

"Stay up here," he growled to Beth, adjusting another arrow into his bow as he moved towards the heart of the commotion.

Managing to retrieve his previously fired arrow, Daryl found himself amidst the raging battle. Walkers stumbled across the pavement, meeting the thrusts of shovels and hammers from the underprepared workers. Out of the corner of his eye, the archer caught sight of Morgan, the man bringing the head of his makeshift weapon down onto a walker's skull. Their eyes briefly met, Morgan's expression hard as he withdrew the shovel's blade from the corpse's body.

"Get to the wall," he shouted to Daryl. "Gotta close it before it draws more in!"

They moved in sync, getting to the wall's opening at the same moment. Daryl swung his bow over his shoulder, watching as Morgan bent down to lift up a large piece of timber from the ground. Together they thrust it against the entrance, grunting as three walkers leaned heavily on it from the outside. Daryl's feet dug into the road, his muscles protesting as he tried to overpower the hungry creatures. Someone approached from the opposite side, Morgan's shouts of direction seeming muffled as other men tried to aid in the closing of the hole.

Daryl was rendered vulnerable, preoccupied with the reinforcement as a walker staggered towards him. As it grabbed for him, Daryl finally catching sight of the figure, its movements were immediately ceased when a hammer came smashing down on its head. Blood spattered, hitting the archer across the neck as it sunk to the ground. Before him, much to Daryl's astonishment and disbelief, stood Beth. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, a hammer gripped in her slender hand as she met the archer's gaze. As he opened his mouth to utter a statement, the sound of gunfire filled the air. One by one the remaining walkers fell, confusion sweeping across both Daryl's and Beth's features as they looked towards the source of the killings.

There, standing in the spot where they once had stood, were five members of the government's guard. Their leader-Gordon, if memory served the archer correctly-looked down at the others with such disdain, Daryl half wondered if perhaps they too would be shot. He moved forward, mouth drawn into a deep frown as he looked around at the sight that lay before him. No questions as to if anyone was alright. No sign of concern. His eyes narrowed, expression dark as he cleared his throat.

"Which one of you dumbasses is in charge of this project?" He barked, looking from each individual construction worker. "Whose damn fault is this?!"

No one said a word, all eyes remaining on Gordon as he began to pace around the area, purposely stepping on a walker's body as he went. Daryl glanced to Beth out of the corner of his eye, his hands finally falling from the wall's makeshift barrier as he moved closer beside her. Since he'd arrived at Hurndon, there had been no accidents that involved walkers. Or really, incidents of any nature occurring.

"I'm not gonna ask again," the man hissed, fury bubbling in his tone as he looked at the group. "Which one of you is in charge?!"

Silence still hung over the individuals, many of whom adverted their eyes from the authoritative figure. Then slowly, Daryl watched in horror as Morgan stepped forward. Gordon looked to the other man, rage shadowing his expression as Morgan stood before him, face completely void of any emotions. Without warning, Gordon strode forward and, retrieving his pistol from its holster, struck the unsuspecting man hard across the face. Morgan's knees gave way and he immediately collapsed to the ground, his breath sounding uneven and wet as he inhaled sharply. Daryl tried to lung forward, but a look from his housemate told him to do otherwise.

"We've been nearly two years without an incident," Gordon growled, knocking his foot hard against Morgan's stomach. "Over two hundred citizens and your laziness just put every single one of them at risk! We give you shelter, food, a life, and you repay us by letting in a bunch of goddamned rotters?!"

Daryl's nails dug into the flesh of his palm as he watched Morgan ruthlessly get beaten. The man didn't even seem to react, just took the abuse without so much as a noise. Beside him, he felt something curl around his wrist. Glancing down, he noticed Beth's hand was gripping him. Whether to hold him back or for her own comfort, he wasn't sure. But no words escaped from her lips as they all silently watched Morgan's punishment.

"Let that be a lesson to all of you," Gordon hissed, pointing his gun towards the crowd of spectators. "We don't take fuck-ups here kindly. Your friend is lucky the government forgives first time offenders. Otherwise, we might not have been so kind." His stare traveled down to the wounded man, saliva and blood streaming out of the corner of Morgan's mouth. "Get 'im up," he spat, looking to the other four guardsmen. "An' take 'im to the detention center. Records'll wanna document this."

"Ya can't do that," Daryl suddenly snarled, stepping forward despite Beth's grip around his arm. "He ain't done nothin' wrong!"

"Don'," he heard Morgan mumble weakly, his voice slightly off as if his nose had been broken. "Don', get Beff 'ome."

"An' who the hell are you," Gordon growled, momentarily abandoning his position beside Morgan to step towards Daryl. "Got somethin' ya wanna say?"

"Daryl," Beth insisted from his side. "C'mon."

"Should listen to your woman," he muttered, lips twisting into a cruel smile as his stare redirected to Beth. "Pretty little thang. Don't seem fittin' to be with someone like you..."

"Don't be lookin' at her," Daryl hissed, voice raised as he glared at Gordon. "You think you're all high and mighty cause you're part of the government? Ain't nothin' more than a frilly little bitch who does what he's told."

The smile faded from Gordon's mouth at Daryl's words. He leaned in close, face only centimeters from the archer's. Daryl could faintly smell the sickening sweet odor of what he could only guess was green apple or some other type of odd hard candy as the guard breathed into his face. Beth's fingers tightened around his wrist, his heart rate increasing as the urge to beat the living shit out of the man grew stronger.

"Better watch what you're sayin', boy," he whispered, his voice cold. "You wanna join your friend over there? I'd be more than happy to give you a one way ticket."

"Daryl," Beth murmured, her nails almost painfully digging into his flesh. "Let's go."

Perhaps if he'd been alone. If he hadn't anything else to worry about. Daryl would've taken the son of a bitch on without a second thought. But he wasn't by himself now. Beth standing at his side, fear slipping into her voice where confidence had once rang. He inhaled, resentment twisting around in his gut as he turned away against his real desire, hearing Beth exhale in relief as they began to walk in the opposite direction of Gordon and the rest of the group.

"That's right," he heard Gordon shout back. "You jus' walk away an' remember you ain't worth shit here. I'm the damn authority now an' you do best to remember that!"

Daryl shrugged away from Beth's hold as they approached the house, his body trembling slightly out of pure anger as he shoved the front door open. Jenny, who had been nearby, jumped at the unexpected sound. Relief flooded across her features when she saw who it was, a smile gracing her expression as she hurriedly approached the two residents, seeming to peer over their shoulders as if she expected someone else.

"Where..." her voice faded, worry crossing her expression. "Where's Morgan?"

Daryl pushed past them, leaving Beth to explain the situation as he trudged up the steps. Hatred and rage coiled together in the pit of his stomach as he thrust open the attic hatch and clambered inside. Though Morgan hadn't done anything wrong, Daryl still felt displeasure towards the other man. Morgan hadn't fought back. Whatever his reasoning behind not doing so was, he hadn't defended himself. Guilt began to grow inside of the archer as he took a seat on the edge of Beth's bed, letting his crossbow fall to the ground without any regards to its safety. Gordon. To hell with Gordon. Daryl chewed on the inside of his cheek, fists clenched painfully together as he stared at the opposite wall.

Time passed. How much, the bowman was unsure. But he didn't turn his head when he heard the attic door reopen or when the sound of Beth's footsteps met his ears. She sat down beside him, remaining silent for a few moments as Daryl continually stared at the wall. They wouldn't kill Morgan. At least, not on purpose, but the chance he would return home tonight was slim to none. Especially if the way the archer had acted would negatively impact the other man.

"I spoke to Jenny," Beth finally murmured, breaking the silence. "Donna and Allen are with her now. She's...okay," there was a brief pause. "Well, hangin' in there at least."

Something sloshed from Beth's lap, Daryl's eyes momentarily leaving the wall to look at what it was. A jar of moonshine, something he'd been keeping for himself in the back of the cupboard. How she'd managed to find it, he wasn't sure. His mouth twisted into a frown, gaze returning to the wall. He heard Beth unscrewing the top, his muscles tensing as he drew in a breath.

"Don't be messin' with things that ain't yours," he grumbled. "You ain't need that shit anyway."

"I brought it for you," Beth said, laying the top on an open spot on the mattress. "Came across it downstairs. I recognized the smell. Daddy always did like his alcohol." She paused, inhaling deeply. "Thought maybe we could share it? I've never tried liquor before, but after today...I thought it would be good as any."

"You ain't even of age," Daryl muttered, realizing how stupid those words now were. "You ain't gonna like it anyway, stuff's strong."

"It doesn't hurt to try," she mumbled, swirling the liquid inside of the mason jar. "I just...need to forget for a little while."

Before he could advise her otherwise, Daryl turned his head in time to see Beth bring the glass past her lips. She took a sip, much larger than he would have suggested, and watched in slight amusement as her features scrunched together. She brought the jar back to her lap, shaking her head in disgust before holding it out towards him. After a moment, he took it, taking his own sip before she finally found her words again.

"That," she coughed. "Was really gross."

"Don't say I ain't tried to warn you," he shrugged, glancing down to the jar. "It ain't no peach schnapps, this stuff's strong."

The corners of Beth's mouth formed a small smile as he held it out towards her again. To his surprise, she took it, taking in another sip before passing it back. They went back and forth like that for a few minutes, Daryl noticing the girl's stupor slowly begin to set in. He too was beginning to feel the effects, the burning not as bad as it had been since his first swallow. Warmth had begun to spread throughout his body, a false sense of comfort finding him. As he looked to Beth, he couldn't help but notice the sorrow in her eyes, hands trembling in her lap as she avoided his gaze.

"They'll kill you," she whispered. "They'll kill you and I'll..."

"What're you talkin' about?" He mumbled, half wondering if it was Beth's drunken state talking to him. "You ain't makin' sense."

"No," she nodded vigorously, finally meeting his eyes. "No, I am. The Common Law. Daryl, you saw what happened to Morgan today-"

"Stop," Daryl muttered, knowing where she was going. "Jus' stop right there."

"They won't hesitate," she whispered, her voice wavering as she spoke. "I won't let them do that to you. I won't."

"Jus' shut up, Beth," he nearly shouted, causing the girl to stiffen in surprise. "Jus' shut the hell up! I ain't gonna do that to you. We'll figure this out." Desperation was beginning to slip into his tone, the emotions and memories of today mixing with the alcohol he had consumed. "Let's run away."

Confusion masked the girl's expression. "Huh?"

"Let's jus' run away," he repeated, meeting her stare. "Tonight. We can slip out at the northern wall. Get a few hours ahead before they even notice that we're gone." He stood up, stumbling as he made his way across the room in search of a pack. "We can leave here. Worry about the walkers later. Then you don't gotta worry any about the Common Law."

"Daryl..."

He ignored the sound of her voice as he continued to search for a pack. They'd take a few clothes, maybe some food, and be gone by nightfall. He had his crossbow, a few arrows, they'd make it. They had before they were here, surely they could do it again. As he knelt down to grab a handful of his own belongings, he felt something rest on his shoulder. He turned, struggling to do so, only to look up to see Beth. She stared back at him, the sorrow in her features almost painful to him.

"We can't leave our friends," she mumbled. "I...I can't leave Sasha and Adam. And what if they got in trouble because we left? I won't be responsible for someone else gettin' hurt." Her fingers curled around his shoulder, the archer struggling to even look at her now. "Daryl," she breathed. "Please."

Anger soon was swallowed up by guilt as Daryl forced himself to meet Beth's eyes. She was right. As much as he hated to think so, they couldn't leave those who meant something. The Joneses. Beth's friends. Allen and Donna. Carol. The archer inhaled sharply, his mind foggy from alcohol and uncertainty. No one should have to be forced into this. This was so cynical. So morbidly wrong on many levels. But Beth was right. They had no choice. They'd lost such so long ago.

"Alright," he whispered in defeat. "Okay."

He felt Beth's arms wrap around him, the embrace almost foreign as he continued to kneel there on the ground. He couldn't move. Couldn't bring himself to function. He barely knew her and she him. And yet, now they were being propelled into a life that neither of them had anticipated on. Daryl didn't shy away from her touch, letting her continue to hug him. Thoughts of Morgan. Of the Common Law. All intertwining in his mind. As the sun set beyond the horizon, darkness found its way into the atmosphere. And with it came the longest night in both Daryl's and Beth's lives.

**Really long chapter, there was a lot I wanted to convey. And yes, Gordon was the cop guy from "Slabtown" that tried to rape Beth. Considering changing the story's rating to "M". If you have a preference, please let me know. I hope you enjoyed this installment. It was a little more difficult to write so I hope I conveyed everything okay. There's a lot I could say and explain, but I'm not going to. So I will say, feedback is greatly loved and appreciated. It seriously keeps this story going and the updates coming. Let me know if there is anything you'd like to see, maybe I can make it happen. And I will see you folks for the next update! -Jen**


	5. Chapter five

**So after a great deal of thought and feedback from you folks, I've decided to change this story from the "T" rating to the "M" rating. For those who are worried about graphic scenes, nothing will be too extreme (I will admit, this is only my second time writing a sex scene, so please be lenient in your criticism). And will be easy enough to skim over scenes if you so choose. As such, I have decided to do the consummation scene that I said wouldn't happen last chapter. So before we begin, as usual, a tremendous amount of thanks to DarylDixon'sLover, breathingforbethyl, Dixongurl, PolkaDotSocks93, brady66, FebruarySong, goshbirdie, vvheel, TWDFan05, NanamiYatsumaki, BelleCelestyn, EmLouD, rebecca taylor, Aeralyse, Saffia, bluebook1496, An Amber Pen, Mione788, MamaDCB, Merry Beaker Fractale, sammxhill, Guest, Nacha, jbolinex, Emma Kellogg, heatherrk, Trinity, Arabella, Guest, mallory, and casinovixen081212 for your wonderful, and very motivating reviews left for the last chapter! Now, as promised, here is the next installment!  
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Chapter five:

Even shrouded in darkness, the attic's atmosphere was still thick and heavy with heat and dust. What little light did illuminate the room came from the small floor lamp that sat off to the side, its shade creating an orange haze that seemed to bleed through the tattered fabric. Daryl sat on the edge of the mattress, fingers digging into the blanket's cloth. His mind, despite the over-consumption of liquor, was still present enough that he realized what was occurring. That he could properly think and feel even if he desired otherwise. He inhaled through his nose, finding it somewhat difficult to do so. Whether it was the air or his thoughts, he wasn't sure. But it was, as everything else in the current moment felt, far from comfortable.

He could hear her breathing as he directed his attention to the floor. Still unable to bring himself to fully look at her as she undressed before him. His stomach twisted, nausea churning bile up his esophagus. Consummation was supposed to be a happy event. Sacred. But such could not be said for this moment. The archer chewed on the inside of his cheek, toes curling against the untreated wood of the floor. This wasn't right. None of this was. And despite that he, as every normal human did, craved the feeling of intimacy, this was far from qualifying as such. Fucking. Breeding. Mating. Whatever one chose to call it. This wasn't an act of love. It was force.

"Daryl."

At first, the archer did not respond to the mention of his name. He remained still, eyes glued to the floor where shadows danced in the pale light. He didn't want to do this and knew very well that Beth must reciprocate the feeling. And yet, she was willing. Against her own beliefs, she would do what would protect her loved ones. Her family. Him. Even though they had only known each other for such a short amount of time, Beth's ability to care and hold compassion was extended to her arranged husband. And he was far from deserving of it. No matter what anyone would say, nothing in his life had earned him the right to call a woman such as Beth his own. She was friendly, sweet natured. And he, a man who even as a boy had struggled to receive affection from his family, believed he was not.

"Daryl."

Finally he forced his attention up, meeting the eyes of the figure who stood before him. Beth stood still, her body washed in the lamp's light. His gaze traveled down, following the hollow of her throat, only to pause briefly on the swell of her chest. Her breasts were pale, creamy in complexion compared to the rest of her frame. He moved on, stare trailing down the concaved surface of her stomach, to her hips where a small birthmark sat against the outcrop of her hipbone. Down to the soft, dark curls of her womanhood, eyes lingering momentarily before he finally brought his gaze back to meet hers.

"I've..." her voice was soft, almost inaudible as she hugged her arms around her chest tightly. "I've never...done this before."

She looked a little uneasy, despite the stupor that made it appear less so. Daryl nodded, trying to ignore the way her hands trembled as she stood completely exposed before him. He wasn't too sure as to what he should say in this situation. He inhaled, watching as she took a step forward. And when she held out her hand, he took it, muscles tensing when she drew closer and began to fumble with the articles of his clothing.

"We can stop," he mumbled, letting his shirt fall off to the side. "If you ain't ready..."

Beth shook her head, lips pressed firmly together. For a moment, she paused, hands resting on the buckle of his belt. Her chest rose, lungs filling with an unheard breath as she finally drew her gaze to meet his again.

"Kiss me."

Confusion briefly swept across the archer's face at the girl's request, brow slightly furrowing in response. But there was no humor nor excitement in Beth's features. She watched him expressionless, mouth slight ajar as she took long, even breaths. Daryl swallowed, finding his mouth unreasonably dry as he tugged her forward, his lips brushing against hers. He could taste the alcohol on them, the skin soft and supple as their mouths lingered together. She was warm, inviting, her arms winding around his neck as it grew more fervent. There was passion behind it, but not in love. Almost sorrow.

His pants began to feel increasingly uncomfortable as Beth managed to undo his belt. There was no foreplay. Or teasing. It wasn't like one of those damn romance novels or pornos Merle used to leave in the DVR before the world went to shit. His cock ached, the fabric of his jeans drawn too tight as he managed to shift out of them in order to assist Beth. He could feel his heart pounding against his rib cage, almost certain he could hear hers as her eyes lingered down to his groin.

"We can stop," he repeated, meeting her stare. "Jus' say the word an' we can forget this."

But Beth merely shook her head, drawing closer to Daryl as she let her arms fall to her side. Every nerve in his body was on edge, electrical currents seeming to spark from every sensitive spot as she straddled his waist. Until now, he hadn't realized his own hands had begun to tremble as he moved to rest them on Beth's hips, her skin warm and soft against his calloused palms. He let his mind wander, brain unfocused as they shifted their way further onto the mattress.

She drew a sharp breath when he entered her, her body stiffening as her walls clamped tightly around him. He bit back a grunt, the feeling almost euphoric despite the nature of the situation. She felt good. Really good. And after years of avoiding any sort of affection, this unexpected means of arousal was suddenly craved more than the archer had ever thought. For a few moments, he didn't move, eyes fixated on Beth's expression as discomfort and pain flashed across her features.

"Beth?"

Her lips were pressed firmly together, the rosy flesh almost white. Briefly, she didn't speak, her fingers digging into the exposed flesh of Daryl's shoulders. Sex the first time around was far from pleasant in the beginning. At least, when one wasn't exactly prepared or desiring it. And for a second, the archer began to silently wonder if perhaps maybe they should have taken it slower. Fingering or whatever the hell people did to relax. Not that he really believed it would make much a difference now.

"I'm fine," she finally managed to breath, the words sounding uneven. "Keep goin'."

They began to rock slowly, bed softly creaking underneath their movements. His fingers gripped her hips, senses surprisingly in tune despite the alcohol. He listened to Beth's breathing, how it seemed to hitch in her throat the more intense the action became. But soon, the sharp intakes were replaced with what the archer could have sworn were interjects of pleasure. She gasped his name, face pressed against his shoulder as his thrusts grew deeper and faster.

Lost in a fog that lingered between the realms of desire and despair, Daryl's thoughts became muddled. It was wrong. He knew it was. And yet, some part of him was finding this unimaginably needed. Pent of rage. Confusion. Sadness. All seemed to intensify and yet, dissipate with every passing second. Skin slick, hot with perspiration, their bodies moved together in sync. As if this had not been their first time, but the hundredth. He bit down on the inside of his cheek, holding back the cry that burned in his throat. Reaching his climax as Beth rode hers against him, bodies trembling with an unsaid energy that tapered and left them both feeling heavy and weak-limbed.

"You don't have to go," Beth whispered, Daryl unable to bring his eyes to meet hers as he stumbled from the bed. "You can stay."

Drunk. Hopeless. The archer ignored her words, fumbling through the dark until he came across his own sheets on the floor. He didn't bother retrieving any means of clothing as he sunk down stomach uneasy and thoughts unwelcoming. If he hadn't felt so off, so exhausted, he would've left the house entirely. Gone for a midnight stroll despite the town's strict curfew policy. What he had done, he couldn't undo. Taken something from Beth she'd never get back. It had not been their will. And despite her courage to, Daryl still held a guilt that would surely fester within him for an unknown time.

Morning came without his realization, the archer having briefly closed his eyes at some point during the night, only to reopen them to the sunlight. His head felt heavy, stomach met with a new nausea and pain as he forced himself upright onto his elbows. Hangover. He peered across the room, Beth's frame visible underneath the sheets. Lingering memories of the night before resurfaced in his mind as he moved to stand, shuffling across the floor to throw on some clothing.

She would be exhausted. Maybe sore-he wasn't sure how a woman's body worked. And suffering worse from her headache than he was. But as it was, he'd let her sleep. Perhaps bring up a cup of water to leave at her bedside, there wasn't much else he could offer for hangovers. His own head spun as he managed to pull on his clothes, ignoring that they were the same dirty, walker grimed ones he had worn in yesterday's fight. Apparel had never really been a concern to the archer, even before the outbreak.

"Donna made oatmeal," Allen's voice rung, slamming against the sides of Daryl's skull as he trudged down the staircase. "Made sure the boys left enough for you and Beth."

"Ain't hungry," Daryl muttered, the words sounding groggy as he moved past the other resident. "And don't be talkin' so loud."

"I'm not," the man replied, his eyes watching the archer curiously. "Everything alright, Daryl?"

"Peachy," muttered the archer, fumbling with the laces of his shoes. Both Jenny and Donna would equally have a fuss if they knew he was using the dining room table to prop his foot up on. But he was far from caring about manners at the moment. Moving made him feel dizzy. Nauseous. And taking short cuts for otherwise easy tasks seemed welcoming right now. "Everyone else out?"

"Donna took the boys to the town's center," Allen said, removing the large bowl of oatmeal from the table. "Jenny's out trying to find Morgan some painkillers. Not that she'll really have any much luck with that. I think she just needs to clear her thoughts."

Daryl immediately paused, his eyes flickering to meet the other man's. "Morgan's back?" He inhaled, momentarily forgetting the sickening feeling of the hangover. "When-"

"Last night," he answered, nodding towards the darkened entrance of the living room. "Coworker of his, Bob I think it was, brought him in late during the night. He was pretty banged up, I'm glad neither his son nor the twins were awake to see it. But we got him into the living room and Jenny says he slept well for most of the night." The man paused, meeting Daryl's stare. "He's lucky to be alive. Like Donna and me, he and Jenny don't offer much besides the extra sets of hands. Didn't realize how bad it was until..." his voice trailed off, attention redirecting to the bowl of oatmeal. "I have to go to work soon," he muttered, suddenly seeming to lose interest in Daryl. "I'll leave the food in the kitchen. Help yourself when you feel hungry."

Daryl's eyes followed the other man until Allen disappeared from sight. His chest rose as he inhaled deeply from his nose, gaze returning back to the dark entrance. Despite a part of him not really wanting to see Morgan in his current state, a larger piece was compelled to. Quietly, he walked into the room, the shades drawn shut so that no sunlight was able to enter. In a far corner where a couch had been pushed up against the wall, the archer could just barely make out a figure reclining on its surface. Cautiously he moved forward, eyes adjusting as he looked down at the man seemingly unconscious before him.

His left eye was swollen shut, the skin darker and bruised around the area. The nose, which now appeared to be at a slightly unnatural angle, was crusted with blood, apparently making it hard for the man to breathe as he inhaled and exhaled unevenly. Guilt twisted in Daryl's gut as he looked Morgan over, the injuries seeming far more extreme than they had previously been back at the northern wall. Clearly much had been done afterwards, once the watchful eyes of the many citizens were no longer in sight.

"It looks a lot worse than it really is."

Daryl stiffened at the hoarse voice, his stare immediately fixating on Morgan's face as the man slowly opened his one, good eye. He looked up at the archer, busted lips curving into a sympathetic smile that nearly was a grimace. Even the slightest movement seemed to cause pain to the man, though he didn't utter a single word or complaint about it.

"Why'd you do it," Daryl muttered, staring back at Morgan. "That was damn stupid to take the blame."

"Someone had to," the man replied, his voice barely reaching above a whisper. "Rather it be me than someone else."

"Coulda fought back," the archer said, resentment slipping into his tone. "You didn't have to sit there an' take that shit. You coulda fucked 'em up if you wanted to. Why'd you let 'em do it?"

"Had no choice," Morgan mumbled, his eye slowly closing once more. "Me and Jenny, we're not like you and Beth. We can't offer what the government truly wants. Had to think of my family. Of my son. At any time, they could throw us out. Leave us for the walkers. I did what I did to protect 'em. I did what was needed of me to survive. Hurndon may be twisted. Maybe it's even worse than the outside world. But I can't afford to think like that. Inside, we're safe...at least, somewhat. One day you'll understand...wounds heal, death does not."

Anger bubbled within the pit of Daryl's stomach as he watched consciousness slip from between Morgan's bruised fingers. It was not Morgan that evoked rage in the archer, but every situation in its entirety. His head spun, mind blurry as he exited the room. He needed to breathe, to get some clean air into his lungs. Despite the light outside, he found himself leaving the house anyway. The brightness burned, his headache splitting as he squinted into the day. Dizziness and ears ringing, he moved through the street, trying to regain control of the thoughts that surfaced in his mind. They needed to get out of here. Somehow, someway they needed to escape Hurndon. Even if no one else seemed willing but him now.

He continued to walk, heels dragging on the dirt and stone surface of the road. As he approached the western wall, the archer found himself immediately stopping in his tracks. The one gate that led into and out of the town was open, the few vehicles Hurndon possessed driving through it. A crowd had gathered, all eyes seeming fixed on something amidst the convey. Curiosity getting the better of him, he moved closer, falling behind the back of the crowd as they continued to look on, not seeming to notice their latest edition.

"What's goin' on," Daryl muttered, trying to get a better look at the scene. "Somethin' happen?"

"New arrivals," a woman replied, her voice soft as she pointed. "There."

Following her finger, Daryl clearly noted three distinct figures walking in between the space the vehicles left as they rolled forward. A man, his hair unruly and dark, stood the tallest. In his arms, maybe a year or less old, was a baby, fingers gripping the fabric of the man's shirt as he carried her along. And by his side, looking to be no older than Duane was, came a boy, face shadowed with what looked like a cowboy or some type of sheriff's hat he wore.

They moved quietly, occasionally peering at the people who eyed them as they went. The man then uttered something to the boy, too far away for Daryl to be able to read his lips. And as they grew distant, clearly being led to the government house, Daryl could not help but feel a sense of regret for them. Knowing that they were completely unaware of the hell they had just stepped into.

**First off, huge thanks to allonsysilvertongue and foleywinsforever for willingly being subjected to my sex scene for reading and re-reading despite not even being a part of the Walking Dead fandom. Thanks guys! Anyway, I really hope you enjoyed! Finally managed to bring Rick, Carl, and Judith in. They will be essential for when things finally start going down. And for those who have questioned about other characters making appearances or whether Daryl and Beth will actually leave town, all will be answered in due time. Feedback is greatly loved and appreciated! Please let me know your thoughts. Should there be distant future love scenes (not now, I want to develop the Bethyl relationship first as the consummation was solely due to the Common Law and not true feelings). But yes, a penny for your thoughts, if you would! It helps make updates come faster. Alright, until next time, folks! -Jen**


	6. Chapter six

**Okay, so I don't want to take too long to speak so a volcano of ashy love and molten gratitude to DarylDixon'sLover, Saffia, Dixongurl, goshbirdie, brady66, rebecca taylor, A-cat-in-the-dark, Atilia DawnBlack, sammxhill, ledanna, sillymommy2010, heatherrk, breathingforbethyl, casinovixen081212, An Amber Pen, Guest, Heatherw231, TWDFan05, Anara, fancyfaye, UnwrittenLanguage, MamaDCB, MissieMae, kevkye, orayofsunshine, TWDobsession, staceycoonan, Hippie-dippy93, BelleCelestyn, SweetSeductionCherryB, Merry Beaker Fractale, boothandbones4ever, Anon, crimsonrose0003, Guest, Girl who likes to lay under tables, jeanf, and nekowolf for the wonderful, always inspiring feedback messages left for the last chapter! Now to continue with this tale!  
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Chapter six:

Most of the crowd had already dispersed upon the disappearance of the newcomers, what few continued to stand in their spot murmured amongst each other in question and curiosity. It had, after all, been awhile since someone entered Hurndon from the outside world. And never, in all the town's history, had someone as young as a baby been brought in, most children ranging from toddlers to teenagers. How the man, whoever he was, managed to survive several years unprotected in a walker infested world whilst caring for two kids, Daryl was unsure. Of course, such was not his concern. He had, after all, his own issues to be concerned with.

Still recovering from his previous night of drinking, the archer began to journey back to the household. His head spun, eyes aching from the bright sun as he pushed open the front door, the darkness of the home welcoming as he stepped inside. Immediately, he heard voices coming from the kitchen. He paused, listening carefully to the sound. One speaker, who he could easily identify as Beth, seemed to be in a deep conversation with another. A woman. Not someone he recognized. As he took another step, the voices stopped, the sound of footsteps replacing the previous noise as the girl's head peered out from behind the room's entrance.

"Daryl," she greeted, sounding slightly exhausted. "I thought you were maybe Allen or somethin'. Where've you been?"

"Out," he mumbled, eyes flickering towards the kitchen. "A friend?"

She nodded, "If you're not busy or anythin', I'd really like to introduce you."

The thoughts of the man and the two children momentarily slipped from the archer's mind as he gave a half shrug in response to her words. The corners of Beth's mouth upturned into a small smile as she disappeared behind the door. Despite not being one to make acquaintances, Daryl couldn't help but feel obligated for Beth's sake to do so. He moved slowly, shoulders slightly hunched as he entered into the kitchen. Beth stood by the sink, leaning back against its surface. In front of her, seated at the small table, was a woman. Her skin was dark, curly hair pulled back into bun. Instantly his eyes fell to the swell of her stomach, the stranger clearly several months along in her pregnancy.

"Daryl," Beth's voice said, cutting through the archer's train of thought. "This is Sasha, my old house mate I've mentioned before?"

The archer nodded, noting that the woman's smile seemed less than friendly. Nevertheless, she extended her hand in greeting and Daryl took it awkwardly. He wondered vaguely if his marriage to Beth was the cause of Sasha's slight hostility towards him. That maybe she was under the impression that he controlled her. Which, of course, was not the case. Beth could do whatever she pleased.

"I just came by to bring some soup for Morgan," Sasha explained, her gaze not faltering from the archer's. "My husband told me what happened at the northern wall yesterday. How you stuck up for Morgan? That was brave of you."

"He would've done the same for me," Daryl muttered, feeling slightly uncomfortable from the tension in the room.

Sasha nodded thoughtfully, a hand resting on the apex of her stomach. She inhaled deeply, eyes flickering over to Beth. Slowly she began to push herself up, Daryl immediately wondering if he should offer to help. But by the time he thought of the right words, she was already standing. The mere action seemed to have tired the woman as she smiled softly, pulling the girl into an embrace.

"Adam misses you," she exclaimed. "We all do. You must visit more often."

"I will," she promised. "I miss you guys too."

Sasha's gaze returned to Daryl, her genuine smile slightly fading. "Take care of her," she said, the words sounding more threatening than passive. "Goodbye, Beth. Daryl."

The archer's eyes followed the woman as she exited the house, her gait seeming slightly unstable which he attributed to the pregnancy. Once she was out of sight, it suddenly dawned on him that he was now alone in the room with Beth. Tense. Uneasy. He turned to her, Beth's mouth curled into a gentle smile. Despite what had happened last night, she didn't seem upset or uncomfortable around him. It was as if it had never occurred.

"How're you..." he hesitated, meeting the girl's eyes. "Feelin'?"

"Little hungover," Beth admitted, arms crossing over her chest as she sighed. "But I guess that's to be expected, right?"

He nodded his head, stare redirecting to the door Sasha just exited from. "She hates me."

"She doesn't hate you," Beth explained, the ever present smile still gracing her features. "She just doesn't know you yet. She's...well, I guess kinda protective of me. I came to Hurndon when I was sixteen. She and Bob, her husband, took me in. Kinda raised me in a way. She's just lookin' out for me. Even though she doesn't have anythin' to worry about."

"About last night," the archer began, feeling that he'd have to bring up the conversation eventually. "I'm sorry if I-"

"I'm fine, Daryl," she insisted, exhaling softly. "Really, don't concern yourself over it. We're still friends, right?"

"Right," he mumbled, glancing towards the steps that led to the second floor. "How's Morgan?"

"Asleep," she confirmed. "When I woke up, I met Allen downstairs. He...told me what happened last night while you and I..." her voice trailed off. "I'm glad he's gonna be okay. I've been keepin' an eye on him while Allen's out. He hasn't woken up at all, which is good I guess. I wish Daddy were here, he'd know what to do."

Daryl inhaled, the cooler air of the ground floor making his headache feel slightly less agonizing. Yet the thoughts of the previous night still ran rampant in his mind. And though it disgusted him to realize it, he doubted that last night would be there only time they would have to fornicate. Sometimes those things didn't take on the first try. Sighing, Daryl cracked his knuckles, the popping sound somewhat satisfying as he continued to look towards the staircase.

"I have to head to work," he said, his attention returning to Beth. "Maybe later we could talk or somethin'. I don't know."

He was trying, really trying for her. They didn't need to be in love, he realized, but friendship would certainly make life easier. Though Beth believed in faith more than reality, she still was his wife and he still needed to learn to cope with her. His eyes met hers, noting the smile that formed on her lips. Guilt rose within him once more. If she had been given the choice, he knew very well that she wouldn't have gone for someone of his personality. Of his age. And for that, he pitied her and loathed himself.

"I'd like that," she replied, pushing back a stray strand of her blonde hair. "It's a date."

He knew she was attempting to be humorous, but he found it the opposite. He merely nodded, turning away as he headed up the staircase to grab his crossbow. As he entered into the attic, his eyes scanned the room, stomach immediately dropping when he saw the empty spot against the wall. The place where he had left his bow the night before. Panic and anger festered in the archer, his thoughts incoherent as he hurried down the ladder and to the steps.

"Beth," he shouted, momentarily forgetting the injured man who slept in the other room. "Where is it?!"

"Where is what?" She replied, stepping from the kitchen as she peered up at the archer. "Keep your voice down, Daryl. Morgan's-"

"My goddamn crossbow," he hissed, stepping down the stairs. "Where'd you put it?"

"I haven't touched it," she insisted, her own voice beginning to raise. "Calm down-"

"I ain't gonna calm down until you tell me where it is," Daryl growled. "Ever since you moved in, you've been movin' all the damn stuff around in the room. I can't fuckin' find half my clothes!"

"That's because it's a pigsty in there," Beth retorted, her mouth twisting into a frown. "I did you a favor. I cleaned it up. If you took a moment to look through your drawers, maybe you'd see everythin' you said was missin'!"

Daryl ran a hand over his face, thoughts muddled as he began to pace around the room. If Beth hadn't taken it, then who had? Exhaling, he turned back to Beth, the girl's expression displeased as she met his gaze. He was going to be late for work today, something Abraham wouldn't be happy about. But there was no chance in hell he was just going to sit back and hope his weapon was returned.

"I'm gonna go look for it," he muttered, heading towards the door. "And shove an arrow up the ass of whoever took it."

"I'll go with you," Beth said, her expression firm. "Two pairs of eyes are better than one. Allen'll be back any minute, Morgan will be fine."

The archer was in no mindset to argue with her now. He nodded, heading towards the front door. The town was large, but not nearly enough so that it would be hard to cover. Their pace was fast as they walked down the steps, stares flickering every which direction. Daryl could feel his heart pounding in his chest, a sense of vulnerability finding him at the loss of his weapon. The damn thing had, after all, served him well even after coming to Hurndon. There was no way he was going to lose it now.

"We'll find it, Daryl," Beth murmured, looking to the man. "It can't have gone far."

As they approached the eastern wall of the town, something caught Daryl's attention. Squatting behind a few old crates used for the vegetable rations was Duane. He was looking at something, his head low, hands seeming to busily mess with something. As he followed the boy's gaze, his stomach dropped for the second time that morning. There, not but a few yards away, were a few guards, one he recognized plainly as Gordon himself. They chattered merrily, completely unbeknownst to them that they were being watched. And suddenly, Daryl realized what Duane was planning to do.

Without much thought, he shot forward, hurrying behind the boxes where Duane unsuccessfully tried to load an arrow into the crossbow. How the boy had managed to sneak into the attic in the first place and take it, the archer wasn't sure. But as soon as he reached Duane's side, he immediately snatched it up, causing the boy to jump in surprise.

"What the hell are you doing, boy," he hissed, eyes fixated on Duane's. "Are you fuckin' crazy?"

There was anger in the teenager's expression, the threat of tears present in his eyes as he looked to Daryl. At first he didn't speak, his lips pressed tightly together as he stared at Daryl with guilt. Beth approached from behind, standing beside Daryl as the archer watched the boy quizzically.

"They hurt my dad," he muttered, hands clenched into the dirt.

"I know," Daryl mumbled, his voice softening a little. "But killin' them is just gonna make things worse. You ain't even know how to use a damn crossbow. Makin' yourself look like an idiot."

Tears had begun to stream down the boy's cheeks. He attempted to wipe away at them, only smudging dirt across his face. Daryl exhaled, his eyes flickering over to where the guards stood. They still continued converse, completely unaware of what was happening not too far from where they stood. Throwing his crossbow over his shoulder, his attention returned to Duane on the ground.

"Get up," he muttered. "And brush yourself off."

Duane did as he was told, sniffling as he stood up. He didn't flinch when Beth wrapped an arm around him, glad for the affection that wasn't Daryl's snarling. As they began to walk back towards the house, the archer glanced over at Beth. He felt guilty for snapping at her, now knowing that she hadn't done anything to his bow. Perhaps once they were alone, he'd make the effort of apologizing to her.

"Are you gonna tell my parents?" Duane asked, wiping at his nose with the back of his hand.

"No," Daryl said, looking to Beth as he spoke. "Your mother's got enough on her plate as it is. But you better not pull this crap again."

Duane nodded his head, sniffing once more before falling silent. Daryl didn't blame the kid for his actions. He too had been tempted to cause bodily harm to Gordon and the other guardsmen. But doing such was too risky now. And Duane and his family, if not the entire household, would've been severely punished for such a crime. Daryl exhaled, the heat of the morning causing sweat to begin to form at his temples as they approached the house. He let Duane enter first, watching the boy shuffle past the entrance before he turned to Beth.

"Think he'll be alright?" She asked, looking to the place where Duane had left from.

Daryl nodded. "I'll keep an eye on him," he muttered, pausing briefly before meeting Beth's gaze once more. "Look," he began. "About earlier, I-"

"It's alright," Beth assured him, her smile returning. "Really, you didn't know. I understand how important it is to you." She folded her arms over her chest, glancing towards the house once more. "What you did for him back there, that was...good of you."

"Ain't gonna let some kid ruin it for the rest of us," he mumbled, adjusting the bow on his shoulder.

Beth nodded her head, eyes flickering back to Daryl's. She inhaled, arms now resting at her side. "You're a good man, Daryl Dixon," she said, leaning forward to place an unexpected his on his cheek.

Daryl could feel the heat rise to his ears as he watched Beth turn away, walking back into the house after Duane. He stood still for a moment, a numbing feeling coming over his body as he looked at the closed door. Despite her words, Daryl could not make himself believe her statement. He exhaled, kicking a small stone with the toe of his shoe. As he turned to head towards his place of work, he heard a voice come from behind.

"Why, you must be Daryl Dixon," it said.

Daryl turned, coming face to face with a tall, well built man. Beside him, a woman stood, her blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail as she held an infant, no older than a year, with a little girl by her side. The man smiled, but no friendliness was evident on his features. How he knew Daryl's name, the archer wasn't sure. And who this figure was, was even less clear to Daryl.

"My name is Philip Blake," he stated, extending his hand. "But most people know me as The Governor."

**So I had this idea that the three leaders are more of councilmen and the real face behind Hurndon is the Governor. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed, some big things happening next chapter I'm really excited about. A lot of bethyl moments as well as other things. And don't worry, soon enough Rick will be introduced and all that involving him will ensue. Feedback is greatly loved and appreciated! Seriously, it keeps the updates coming every other day! Let me know your thoughts! Until next time, folks! -Jen**


	7. Chapter seven

**As usual, much gratitude to DarylDixon'sLover, Mione788, crimsonrose0003, Dixongurl, Guest, An Amber Pen, Anon, jeanf, kevkye, Merry Beaker Fractale, Atilia Dawn Black, GabbyAbby, Girl who likes to lay under tables, TWDFan05, orayofsunshine, AliKattz, casinovixen081212, ledanna, heatherrk, Nacha, Letters into wor, Ann, sportschick44, SweetSeductionCherryB, and Nekowolf for your lovely feedback messages left for the last chapter! And much thanks to those who have alerted and favorited this story as well! Well, I suppose onto the next chapter then!  
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Chapter seven:

There was something about the way the Governor smiled that was rather unsettling to Daryl Dixon. It was the same expression he knew vaguely from his childhood when his father tried to be kind in order to get some alcohol money off of either him or Merle. Or that same false gesture his grade school teachers would give him when they'd hand back his failed assignments. Dishonest. Perhaps even sinister. Nevertheless, the archer stood his ground, features still as he watched the other man with great caution.

"My wife," the Governor explained, gesturing to the woman. "Andrea, and our two children, Penny and Thomas."

None of the newly introduced people smiled, the girl frowning as she stood by the woman's side. Andrea met Daryl's gaze and briefly, the archer swore he saw desperation in her stare. As if she were being held captive by some unknown power. He brushed these thoughts aside, returning his attention to the Governor. The man patted his daughter's head, smiling fondly at her before his own gaze returned to Daryl.

"I realize that you probably aren't aware of my existence," he explained. "Most people aren't. They see my three councilmen as the figure heads of Hurndon. I tend to keep to myself, publicity has never been my strong suit. I guess you could say I'm the Wizard of Oz behind the curtain." He chuckled, despite Daryl-who secretly didn't understand the reference-not reciprocating the gesture. "But introductions are not my reason for finding you today, Mr. Dixon." The smile began to fade from his expression, replaced with a stern look that put Daryl in the defensive mode. "I heard about the incident at the Northern Wall. About you approaching one of my guards and threatening him?"

"It wasn't a threat," the archer muttered, unappreciative of the fact he felt like a cornered animal. "I jus' told him like it was."

"Mr. Dixon," The Governor said, mouth pressed firmly together. "What you may fail to realize is that the safety of our borders would fall without the support of our guards. Now, I will agree, some of them may not be personable, but safety is our top priority at Hurndon." He paused, tongue darting out to moisten his lips. "Such that I am willing to take any measure to make sure it remains that way. Am I making myself clear, Mr. Dixon?"

It was a threat. Perhaps an indirect one, but Daryl's fingers still dug into the flesh of his palms as his fists clenched together. The Governor seemed not to notice, the smile returning to his face as he looked back at Andrea and his children. Still the woman did not offer any sign of happiness, her face void of any expression as she bounced the fussy infant in her arms. The reason for her sullenness, the archer was unsure. But clearly something was brewing in Andrea that clawed for release.

"Yeah," Daryl mumbled, deciding it best not to cause a scene now. "I got it."

"Good," The Governor grinned, exhaling loudly. "I'm glad we are on the same page, Mr. Dixon. Now if you'll excuse me, I would like to have a walk with my family. It's been awhile since we've explored the town together."

There was no formal goodbye as the Governor and his family exited the premises of the archer's home. Daryl watched silently, a feeling of rage boiling in the pit of his stomach. He was not one to be threatened and more importantly than that, if this man was who he claimed to be, then any ruling had been his bidding. The look on Andrea's face, something about it bothered him. Had she too been forced into an unwanted marriage? Daryl inhaled, closing his eyes momentarily as he recollected himself. For Morgan's sake. For Beth's. He would not act on his impulses. For now, he would keep quiet. Until the right moment came, he'd leave his thoughts to himself. It was clear, already, that this would not be his last encounter.

Days slowly drifted into weeks and Daryl still had forgone telling any of his housemates, or even Carol for that matter, about the Governor incident. With time, Morgan's wounds healed, leaving only faint scars across his face. Life went on as usual. Daryl worked on construction, Beth in the garden. Since the incident at the Northern Wall, all major activities seemed to have disappeared. Life was unnaturally peaceful.

On one particular morning, Daryl awoke to turn and find Beth not in her bed. Which, of course, was somewhat unusual as she tended to stay asleep when he woke up for work. More concerned than worried, the archer fumbled about until he managed to slip on some less dirtied clothes. Laundry day wasn't until two days from now, so soiled outfits would have to do until then. Grabbing his crossbow, he clambered down the ladder and headed towards the stairs.

The kitchen was dimly lit when he entered, a half empty box of some store brand cereal resting on a table where Beth, a sight he was thankful for, and Jenny sat. She looked slight pale, a cup of water grasped between her fingers as she gazed up to meet Daryl's stare. Concern melted into worry at Daryl's notice of her. She did not look well. In fact, she looked pretty ill. Jenny's hand rested comfortingly on Beth's arm, coaxing the girl to drink the water.

"What's wrong?" Daryl inquired, unable to pull his gaze away from his supposed wife. "You sick?"

"I'm fine," Beth mumbled, taking another small sip of her drink. "It's nothin'."

The archer's eyes briefly wandered to meet Jenny's. The other woman gave an empathetic smile, her fingers lightly tightening around Beth's wrist. If something were truly wrong, Daryl knew Morgan's wife well enough that she would say so. He exhaled, a part of him wanting to interrogate the girl more but knowing it was early enough in the morning that doing so probably wasn't best.

"I'll keep an eye on her," Jenny promised. "You go on to work. It isn't good to be late."

A good piece of him tugged at the idea that maybe he should stay with Beth. Though they had only known each other for a few weeks, she was still a part of his life, whether he liked it or not. But he also realized that work provided a great portion of the rations the household received. Throwing one last look in Beth's direction, Daryl adjusted the bow on his shoulder. Ever since the incident at the Northern Wall, having such a weapon proved more useful than not. With a mutter of farewell, he exited the household, the air surprisingly cool as he made his way towards the Southern Wall of Hurndon.

"On time," Abraham muttered as Daryl entered the building. "Happy to see you showin' up."

"Ain't like there's nothin' more excitin' to do," the archer mumbled, placing his crossbow against the wall. "Where'd'ya want me?"

The ginger haired man's eyes traveled across the room, Daryl following his gaze until it landed on an unknown figure. At first, the archer eyed the stranger in confusion. It wasn't someone he had seen around the construction area before. But the moment the man turned around, realization struck him. The man from the convoy. The newest of the residents to Hurndon.

"Daryl," Abraham said, his voice gruff. "Meet Rick Grimes."

The man-or Rick as he was called-approached the archer, his hand extended. "Rick Grimes," he introduced. "Don't suppose you know anythin' about coped joints?"

Rick was a reasonably sized man, hair dark and curly with eyes that had seen much more suffering than any man should have to witness. Daryl was willing to work at his side, something about the newcomer made him feel at ease. Sure he had a few things to learn about construction-who didn't-but clearly Rick had a sense or two about survival. After all, he'd come into Hurndon with two children.

"Saw you come in," Daryl muttered, shoving up a board overhead. "With the convey? Those your kids?"

"Carl and Judith," Rick replied, taking the hammer to nail in Daryl's board. "Have my housemates watching them now." He paused, eyes not leaving the wall he was working on. "Where are you from?"

"Around," Daryl mumbled. "Never stayed in one place too long."

Rick nodded thoughtfully, "King County, Georgia," he replied. "Was there until things got bad. Was with a group for awhile."

"What happened to them?" the archer inquired, already feeling as if he knew the answer.

The other man fell silent, the hammer resting against the nail in the board. Immediately Daryl regretted asking his question, the mention of his words seemingly painful to Rick. He exhaled, adjusting the board as if nothing had occurred. Perhaps they had spoken too much as it was. Daryl, not being too talent with words, had clearly ruined any acquaintanceship with this man.

"Dunno," Rick finally muttered, catching Daryl off guard. "We were with them for one moment, lost them the next. Stuff happened. Next thing I know, I run into some people. Said they had shelter. Food. Carl and Judith...we were desperate. Hungry. I was willin' to trust anyone with an offer like that at this point."

"Shouldn't of come," Daryl muttered, eyes fixated on the board as he spoke. "Hurndon ain't what it seems."

Rick paused, turning to meet the preoccupied archer. "What do you mean?"

Before Daryl had a chance to reply, his words were interrupted by the sound of Abraham giving permission for lunch. Today the government provided the food, something that did not normally happen. Beans. Tomatoes. Rice. All thoughts were forgotten as the men and women of the housing construction shuffled out to receive their rations. That week's outside harvest must've been successful, Daryl didn't remember the last time he'd been given rice.

Once the meal was completed, work was started up again. Daryl found himself away from Rick, sent to the second floor to install the windows that would-as one would hope-prove to be a good use of escaping if a walker invasion were to happen. The thoughts of Beth and Rick's question momentarily slipped from his mind as he worked the hours away, fingers split from the wood, face cut up from the debris. It was far from pleasant and the reasoning behind the houses disgusted him, but the job was honest and supplied his household well. At least there was that to appreciate.

By dusk, most of the workers had called it quits, Daryl finally doing so when his own stomach rumbled in hunger. The day, like most for the past few weeks, had been uneventful. Tugging his crossbow of his shoulder, he sauntered out from the skeleton of a house, making the journey back to his own household that seemed so far away after a tiring day's work.

"Welcome home," Donna greeted upon Daryl's entrance into the house. "Allen's made pasta for dinner. There isn't any sauce, but we were lucky enough to be rationed two boxes. Jenny's making the most of what little vegetables we have left."

"Where's Beth?" Daryl asked, his eyes scanning the room. Usually the girl was in the area to greet him, or at least in plain sight or sound.

"Beth won't be joining us for dinner," Donna said, slight hesitation in her voice. "She isn't feeling well."

Concern immediately festered in Daryl's mind at her words. He knew Beth had been a little funny that morning, but he hadn't thought too much of it. But the idea that she wasn't well enough to eat dinner was far for worrisome than anything else. The corners of Daryl's mouth twitched into a slight frown at the thought, the archer removing his crossbow and placing it at the door. He'd bring it upstairs later.

"What's wrong with her," he questioned Donna. "Is it serious?"

"Why don't you come and eat something, Daryl," Donna said, avoiding his question. "The pasta will get cold otherwise. And maybe you could bring some to Beth. Try to get her to eat a little."

Dinner was quiet, the pasta served with what little tomato and peppers the household had left from the last rationing. No one really spoke except for the twins, who again were arguing about the rules of their latest made up game. There was tension in the air, almost as if Donna and Jenny knew something that Daryl did not. The archer picked at his food, not particularly hungry. Thoughts of Beth twisted in his mind, overtaking the thoughts of his talk with Rick Grimes.

"Daryl, you should eat," Morgan suggested, his own plate nearly finished. "It isn't gonna do you much good if you don't have the energy to work tomorrow."

"I'm fine," the archer muttered, pushing a noodle around with his plastic fork. "I'm gonna go check on Beth."

"Take some pasta," Jenny suggested, her eyes fixed on her own plate. "She needs something in her system."

The steps were dark as Daryl climbed up them, a plate of pasta in his hands. It was a little difficult maneuvering up the ladder while making sure the food didn't spill, as it would've been a bitch to clean up. When he finally made it into the attic, the first thing his eyes landed on was the figure curled up in bed. Beth. She wasn't moving, which he assumed, meant she was sleeping. Quietly he moved further into the room, placing the plate on the nightstand just as the girl's eyes half slit open.

"Hey," the archer greeted. "Brought you some food."

"I'm not hungry," Beth mumbled, her legs drawn up to her chest. "But thank you."

"You need to eat," Daryl insisted. "It ain't like food is plentiful here."

"I'm not hungry," she repeated, her breath rattling as she inhaled. "Can you get rid of it? The smell's gettin' to me."

Worry slipped into annoyance at Beth's unwillingness to eat. It wasn't irritation at her expense, but the archer struggled to grasp the difference between concern and anger. His mouth twitched into a frown as Beth curled more into herself, her face visibly pale in what little light leaked into the room. Daryl inhaled, thoughts rushing to his mind about what could be ailing her. Sickness was hard to deal with in Hurndon. Medicine was scarce, only given to those who were in true need.

"What's wrong," he asked, watching as Beth closed her eyes.

"Nothin'," Beth mumbled, her face momentarily scrunching in discomfort.

"That ain't nothin'," Daryl replied, frowning at Beth's lethargicness. "Clearly somethin's up with you."

"I just wanna rest," the girl mumbled, inhaling once more. "I really don't feel too good."

"Well you ain't gonna be feelin' much better if you don't get somethin' in your system," the archer replied, pausing momentarily. "Please, just a few bites an' I'll leave you alone."

"I can't," Beth insisted, finally opening her eyes again to meet her husband's.

"Why?" Daryl asked, his concern for her well being overtaking his reason to understand.

"I'm nauseous," Beth mumbled, clearly getting agitated with Daryl's interrogation.

"You got a stomach bug or somethin'?" The archer questioned. "Or did you eat somethin' that was spoiled? I told Donna the damn oatmeal looked wrong-"

"It's not that," Beth murmured, her expression changing to something indescribable.

"Then what is it?" Daryl inquired, getting a little aggravated that Beth was being so indirect with him. "What's the matter?"

The next two words that slipped from her mouth caused Daryl's blood to turn cold. His muscles going ridged at the mention of what she said. His eyes locked onto hers, Beth's expression completely serious and void of any humor.

"I'm pregnant."

**Just wanted to briefly introduce the Governor as he'll play a bigger part as the story goes along, as well as Rick's character. I'm wondering about Andrea's character, if I should give her a decent part as well. I don't know, thoughts? I always saw Daryl as someone who maybe struggled to put two and two together sometimes. But since this story's been mostly about the first week of their marriage, I decided that a slight time skip would be good. It's nothing major, just a few weeks for those who were curious. Feedback is greatly loved and appreciated, I'd love to know your thoughts. And if this gets a decent amount of reviews, I'll update tomorrow as well. Until next time, folks!**


	8. Chapter eight

**Before I begin, I just wanted to clarify some things. The time skip was about five weeks (I did it because I have this bad habit of writing several chapters that take place on the same day). As for Beth's pregnancy, it plays a rather large part in the story so to get things moving, it needed to come now. Don't worry, folks. You'll still get your smut, I promise! And those who want to know about the leaders, well next chapter is for you! Alright, now as usual, an overwhelming amount of thanks to DarylDixon'sLover, MissieMae, Atilia Dawn Black, EmLouD, ledanna, rebecca taylor, Saffia, sillymommy2010, An Amber Pen, MamaDCB, heatherrk, Scifigirl22, melly, Dixongurl, NanamiYatsumaki, sammxhill, GabbyAbby, deedee014, pisquenta, jeanf, Mione788, kevkye, jbolinex, TWDobsession, goshbirdie, Merry Beaker Fractale, TheGoldenElf, Rin Is The Grudge Lady, TWDFan05, boothandbones4ever, Guest, sportschick44, orayofsunshine, crimsonrose0003, Malloryendings, Girl who likes to lay under tables, casinovixen081212, Excuse Me Those Are My Feels, Aeralyse, cherrywineBA, Guest, and AliceInLa-La-Land1215 for your wonderful, very motivating reviews! Now, to continue on with this tale!  
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Chapter eight:

There was a moment of collected silence, time seemingly stopping as Daryl's mind tried to process the words that had been spoken to him. He could feel Beth's eyes on him, knowing she was holding her breath. A baby. A being that had been made by him partially, that held his blood and genes. The archer swallowed, his throat dry as he lifted his gaze to meet the girl's. Beth was quiet, her body uncurled as she forced herself to sit up in the bed. A move that clearly disrupted her already unsettled stomach as she pressed a hand soon after to her abdomen.

"You sure?" Daryl mumbled, a feeling of numbness coming over him.

"I'm not entirely sure," she replied, glancing down at her stomach. "But I think...I believe so."

Six weeks, that was all it had taken. Within the three month requirement, they had fulfilled part of the Common Law. His gut twisted at the thought, guilt and self loathing intertwining together at the idea that both Beth and their child would be subjected to a world that controlled nearly every aspect of their life. And god forbid the child be a girl, her fate would be far worse than any male's. Daryl inhaled, his head aching at the thoughts that plagued him. The ache for a cigarette was great, despite knowing that Beth needed his support now more than ever. But addiction always overpowered his rational reasons.

"Gonna go take a smoke," he muttered, shoving his hands into his pockets. "May be awhile."

"Daryl," he heard Beth call as he headed towards the door. "Wait-"

But he couldn't. He was unable to bring himself to look at her now. Exiting the house, being very well aware that the curfew was already in effect, he headed towards his usual spot by the wall. The packet of crushed cigarettes felt heavy in his pocket as he fished around and pulled one out. It took a moment to light, but soon the comforting glow illuminated what little darkness it could as the archer brought it to his lips.

"It's past curfew," a voice said from behind. "You're gonna get yourself into trouble if you aren't careful."

Daryl didn't turn around, the cigarette hanging from between his lips. He knew the voice well, hearing it quite often in the times he chose to subject himself to companionship. Carol. Her footsteps were soft as she approached, the archer briefly wondering what she was doing out. Soon he felt her at his side, her arm brushing against his as they stood together. He considered offering her a cigarette, out of courtesy of course, but he knew that the woman had given up smoking long ago.

"Don't care," he muttered, exhaling into the night's air. "Ain't much that intimidates me anymore."

"Penny for your thoughts?" Carol inquired, staring up at the wall. "I know you well enough to tell when something's bothering you."

"You ain't know squat," Daryl replied, taking another drag from his cigarette.

"Keep telling yourself that," she mumbled, her mouth twitching into the smallest smile. "Now tell me."

Daryl fell silent for a moment, his eyes fixated on a spot on the border before him. He struggled to find the words, his tongue feeling oddly swollen and limp. But Carol was his friend. He trusted her with his life, if it ever came down to it. Inhaling, Daryl brought the cigarette from his mouth, holding it between his fingers as he let his lungs refill with untainted air.

"Beth's pregnant," he muttered. "Maybe a few weeks along, ain't no for sure. But she told me she was...or thought she was."

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Carol nodding thoughtfully. She didn't speak for a few moments, perhaps her mind processing the information he just shared. Letting the cigarette fall, the archer crushed it with his shoe, watching as the tiny embers fizzled out into nothingness. The taste of tobacco lingered in his mouth, the sensation slightly comforting as Carol finally decided to speak.

"I don't share the same situation with you," she mumbled. "And I never will. But like you, I didn't want to have a child at first. Sophia..." her voice drifted off, Daryl realizing that this was a difficult topic for her. Almost never, in the several months he had known the older woman, had she really mentioned her late child. "And I dreaded the pregnancy. Absolutely despised what Ed had done to me. But when I saw her for the first time...when the doctor placed her on my chest..." Once more her voice trailed away, leaving a pregnant pause. "It's a love that is unimaginable."

"It ain't about the kid so much as the damn law that enforced it," Daryl muttered, fingers digging into the flesh of his palms. "Beth, she don't deserve this. She's a kid herself and I...we were made to do somethin' that was against both of our wills." He paused, kicking a stone. "This government is nothin' more than a bunch of fuckin' motherless bastards that don't give a shit about anyone else."

"I know," Carol agreed, her mouth pressed into a thin line. "None of this is fair. But Beth needs you right now. Despite your feelings, your thoughts, she needs your support. Go home to her, Daryl. Life may not be ideal-hell, it's been far from that for years-but just being there for her means more than you'll understand."

Daryl inhaled deeply, knowing that Carol was right. Finally he met her gaze fully, eyes locking onto hers. Instead of words, he merely nodded, surprised when Carol embraced him. The woman had never been one to show true affection, something having changed her on her journey to Hurndon. He remained still for a moment, finding comfort in her gesture before she finally pulled away.

"Now go," she said. "Before either of us our caught by the guards."

The walk back to the household was in complete silence, most of the occupants already having turned in for the night as Daryl made his way up to the attic. Under the impression that Beth too must have been asleep, he slipped quietly inside, only to be caught off guard by the girl's stare as she sat up in bed. Her eyes were red, cheeks slightly flushed as if she had been crying. A sense of guilt came over the archer as he watched her, unable to find the words to inquire what was wrong.

"Hey," he mumbled.

"Hey," she replied, her voice somewhat hoarse. "I thought maybe you'd be gone for awhile."

"Nah," he muttered, moving across the room. "Too cold."

It was a bald faced lie and he knew very well that Beth knew it. Nevertheless, she nodded, moving over on the mattress as Daryl took a seat. The archer inhaled, finally meeting her gaze. Beth stared back at him, large blue eyes mixed with emotion. How long had she known about her pregnancy, he wasn't sure. But he didn't feel like asking now. There was no need for her to get on the defensive side as to why she didn't share with him earlier.

"I'll need to go to the clinic tomorrow," she mumbled. "Get it confirmed that I really am..." her voice trailed off. "And show the proof to the leaders."

"I'll go with you," Daryl said, noting the surprise in Beth's features. "I want to."

A part of him didn't really, the thought of how they checked made him a little nervous. It wasn't like Hurndon had the best medical equipment, the clinic being nothing more than a converted school house. But they had their ways of knowing. As unnerving as it was, they'd be able to confirm if Beth was truly expecting. They'd had sex once, during Morgan's incident, and attempted it a few other times. His timeline was off, as he was sure her's was too. But tomorrow they'd know for sure.

That night, sleep was restless, the floor feeling more so uncomfortable as Daryl tried to find a better position to sleep in. It wasn't until the early hours of the morning that he finally managed to crash, only to be reawaken when the sunlight streamed through the tiny window above the rafters. Daryl forced himself upright, noticing Beth was sitting up in bed a few yards away with a look of discomfort on her features.

"Nausea," she assured him. "Thinkin' I may wait on breakfast."

"I ain't really hungry either," he mumbled, standing up to throw on some more day appropriate clothes. "You...feelin' alright otherwise?"

It was his poor attempt at trying to show concern. The archer had never been good with words, or women for that matter. But the faint smile that graced Beth's expression was enough to show that she appreciated his interest in her. They may have only known each other for just under two months, but slowly they were becoming more acquainted. Which, of course, was better than nothing at all.

"I'll be fine," she stated, pushing herself up into a standing position. "We should leave now. I don't know how crowded the clinic gets."

Sounds from the dining room informed Daryl that most of the housemates were up and taking to eating. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Beth pale at the smell of the food, knowing her nausea was only growing worse. And briefly, he prayed that perhaps she wasn't pregnant. That maybe she had some odd stomach flu or twenty four hour bug. But he knew eventually that conceiving was bound to happen, as it was a requirement, and having it happen now relieved some pressure. Which of course wasn't saying much, as pregnancy brought a lot more concern than the force of making it occur.

Together, they made their way down the street, it mostly being uncrowded as it was early enough that many citizens were still waking from their previous night's sleep. Every so often, Daryl threw a glance in Beth's direction, watching as she took careful steps towards the clinic. Neither of them spoke, the silence between them somewhat awkward as they made their way through the double doors of the old school house.

The building itself, even though its purpose had been to cater to children, was far from exciting. The walls held no color, most of the paint chipping and peeling away from the concrete blocks that stacked up to form the various boundaries of the makeshift clinic. Pieces of paper marked the way towards the main waiting room, the primitive setting rather unwelcoming as Daryl and Beth entered together.

"Name," the receptionist muttered, eyes not lifting from the clipboard she held.

"Beth Dixon," the girl responded, fumbling over her last name as she still tended to hold onto her surname.

"There's a wait," the woman muttered, scribbling down something on the clipboard. "Someone will see you soon. Maybe."

The cold attitude from the receptionist was unpleasant to say the least. But Daryl, for Beth's sake, didn't raise that argument. Instead, he took a seat, flipping through an old magazine that was dated two years before the outbreak. How it and what few reading materials had survived, he wasn't sure. But at least they offered some comfort that would allow his mind to think elsewhere.

Seconds ticked away into minutes and Beth's name still had yet to be called. Daryl was growing restless, the thoughts in his mind beginning to fester worse than they had been. He began to bounce his knee, feeling Beth's eyes on him as he did so. After a few more minutes, he finally lost his ability to remain waiting and walked right up to the front desk. The woman peered at him, her expression unamused.

"We've been waitin' for Christ knows how long," he growled. "And I ain't 'bout to jus' sit my ass back down-"

The woman glanced behind her and towards the door with a single glass window. "You can go back now," she muttered nonchalantly.

The heat rose to Daryl's ears at her words. Not meeting Beth's gaze, he followed her through the door where they were met by a man. He did not smile, his face void of any emotions as he handed Beth a urine cup and muttered something about throwing on some old dressing gown for an examination. Though he had no reason to feel jealous, the archer wasn't too fond of the idea of stranger touching Beth in any way. Yet they needed the truth and if such came down to having a male doctor, so be it.

While Beth journeyed to the bathroom, Daryl sat outside in the small, cramped up janitor's closet that had been converted into a room. The classrooms, he assumed, were used for several more severe case patients. This of course, being nothing more than confirming a supposed pregnancy. He waited, cracking his fingers as Beth reemerged from the room, handing her sample to a nearby nurse.

"Nervous," Beth inquired, looking over to Daryl as she took a seat.

The archer only shrugged, eyes fixated on the floor. It wasn't until the doctor reentered the room that he managed to force himself to look up, eyes meeting the serious expression on the other man's face. It was hard to read, whether the doctor knew if Beth was expecting or not. As he closed the door behind him, Daryl chewed on the inside of his cheek, watching Beth quietly out of the corner of his eye.

"You are in fact pregnant, Mrs. Dixon," the doctor informed her, Daryl's stomach dropping. "The results were conclusive. I'll be filling out the paperwork to send to the leaders. I'll have the receptionist schedule you for your next appointment. The Common Law requires that all expecting women are heavily monitored to prevent termination."

There was no joy in any of the room's occupants' faces as Beth stood from her chair, taking a hold of her folded clothes. No examine seemed to be needed now, not with the positive result of the test. Daryl exhaled, following her out of the room before waiting as she changed. He stood off to the side as Beth made her appointment, chewing on the inside of his cheek as they left the old school building.

"I'm sorry," Beth murmured, causing Daryl to turn and look at her in surprise as they made their way back towards the house. "I know this isn't how either of us wanted this to happen."

"Don't be apologizin'," the archer replied. "None of this...it ain't your fault." He paused, inhaling deeply. "Like you said, we did what we had to."

Pregnancy was supposed to be a celebration. A happy time of birth and the extension of a family. Yet no joy could be seen as Daryl and Beth made their way back into the house, both minds focused on thoughts that neither would speak of. As they made their way into the kitchen, a voice from behind stopped them in their tracks.

"Daryl," Jenny exclaimed. "Beth, you both received a letter."

The two looked at each other in curiosity as Jenny held out the note towards the archer. He took it, eyes scanning the fine print that was written in some weird form a cursive he struggled to comprehend. Yet, after a few minutes, he finally managed to decipher what it stated.

_To the company of Mr. Daryl and Beth Dixon,_

_As proposed, we, the leaders of Hurndon, require your attendance at the government building tomorrow at noon for monthly investigations. Any prior engagements you might have had will be canceled. Your various jobs have been informed of said meeting and you are temporarily excused from any and all shifts that will occur at the time of the planned meeting. We look forward to seeing you soon. _

_Sincerely,_

_The Governor_

**So since people wanted to see how the meeting between the leaders and Bethyl would go, I thought it would be fun to do. I have a great deal planned-which includes some rather sinister drama-so I sincerely hope you all are enjoying this story! I** know I am by writing it! **And yes, I do plan to bring more characters from the show in. As mentioned by Rick, he did have people. But as for who, you'll have to wait and see. Feedback is greatly loved and appreciated. And, as last time, if this gets a decent amount of reviews, I'll forgo my daily nap and update again. Otherwise, I have scheduled an update for either Thursday or Friday. Until next time! -Jen**


	9. Chapter nine

**As usual, before we begin, much thanks to Guest, DarylDixon'sLover, NanamiYatsumaki, lulu52, TheGoldenElf, MamaDCB, LegoMama0614, TWDFan05, kevkye, BelleCelestyn, Bobtastico, staceycoonan, Aeralyse, Rin Is The Grudge Lady, Mione788, heatherrk, jeanf, Guest, An Amber Pen, Crisphe, Serialkillingyou, Merry Beaker Fractale, Atilia Dawn Black, boothandbones4ever, StephMcG, and jbolinex for your incredible, always motivating feedback messages! Now to begin the next chapter!  
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Chapter nine:

Sleep was restless that night for Daryl Dixon and by morning, exhaustion loomed over his body in full. Muscles aching from the hardwood floor, he turned to see Beth sitting up fully in bed. She offered him a small, weary smile, a hand pressed to her flat abdomen as she inhaled deeply. Clearly morning sickness would pose a greater issue for her than anything else so far. Forcing himself into a seated position, the archer cracked his fingers, wincing as he thrust his shoulders back in order to relieve the back pain he felt from his previous night on the floor.

"How're you feelin'?" He inquired, wondering if it was a stupid question. "Maybe you can try to get some food in you?"

"Nauseated," Beth admitted. "But somethin' to settle my stomach sounds good right now."

Dressing in front of each other still seemed like a private event despite both having seen the other naked. Daryl kept his eyes glued to the wall as Beth changed into her own outfit, the archer deciding to keep the clothes he wore yesterday on seeing as most of his outfits had already been worn and unwashed this week anyway. Together they journeyed down the steps, their noses greeted by the smell of jerky frying on the stove top and cinnamon oatmeal-both a rare occurrence in the household. Beth seemed to be slightly taken about by the odor, her face twisting into a look of discomfort.

"You alright?" Daryl asked, watching as a pallor overtook her usual coloring. "I could bring you up somethin' if you want."

"No," she mumbled, shaking her head. "I'll be fine."

Donna and the twins seemed to be the only occupants of the dining room when Beth and Daryl finally entered. The boys looked up, giving oatmeal encrusted smiles to the two as they dug their spoons into the mix and crammed more into their already filled mouths. Their mother merely shook her head, taking a wet rag as she wiped away at their faces, scolding them for their lack of manners. Daryl watched as Beth took a seat, her attention drawn to the boys as they began to speak to her.

"Mornin' Ms. Beth," Ben greeted, scooping up another spoonful of oatmeal. "Mama made food!"

"I can see that," Beth smiled warmly, watching as the boy crammed another mouthful in. "Looks yummy."

"It is," Billy attested, his mouth full of have chewed oats. "You gonna have some?"

"Boys," Donna chided, looking at her two children. "Mouths closed. Last time I checked, you two weren't born in a barn."

"Yes, mama," they said softly in unison.

Daryl half listened to the conversation as he scooped to generous portions of the hot cereal onto plastic plates. He eyed the jerky curiously, placing a piece on top of his own meal and forgoing doing so for Beth. He highly doubted she'd want to consume it anyway, what with her digestive system as unsettled as it was. Returning to the table, he placed a plate in front of hers, grunting in response when she gratefully thanked him.

"Mr. Daryl," Ben piped up. "You wanna play a board game with me and Billy? Mama got a new one at the rationin'! It ain't used but a lot of times!"

"It _hasn't_ been used," Donna corrected. "And Mr. Daryl and Ms. Beth are busy today."

"Maybe later, kid," Daryl promised, forcing a small mouthful of oatmeal passed his lips before swallowing.

His eyes flickered over to Beth as she stirred her spoon around the gooey concoction. Bit by bit, she forced the tiniest of spoonfuls into her mouth, drinking water more than anything else. The archer couldn't help but wonder if nausea was the greatest factor in her struggle to eat. Perhaps the thought of today's untimely meeting was also on her mind. Thoughts of such too plagued his brain, intertwining with most of his attention.

"How's the work in the garden going, Beth," Donna inquired, reviving what little conversation there was. "What can we expect to be in season."

"Tomatoes and squash mostly," she replied, the corners of her mouth upturning into a weak smile. "The other day, Noah-he's one of the older recruits-decided to attempt plantin' watermelon. He thought it would be nice to have some real fruit. Not sure how well it'll work though."

Donna nodded thoughtfully, her eyes briefly traveling over to her sons before returning to meet Beth. "I can't remember the last time I had watermelon. Used to eat a lot of it when I was pregnant with the boys," she chuckled, shaking her head. "Cravings can be an interesting thing."

Beth seemed to stiffen slightly at her words, enough so that Daryl took notice. He inhaled, nudging Beth's bowl closer to her. She met his gaze as he nodded towards the food, his own way of trying to convince her to eat a little more. It would be, no surprise after all, if it came up later. But for now, getting a least a little in her system was better than not having anything at all. Beth needed to eat. That much Daryl knew about pregnancy.

After the boys had finished up their meals, the dishes left to soak in the sink, Donna watched as they disappeared into the living room. As soon as they were out of ear shot, she turned to both Daryl and Beth, her face falling into a look of seriousness that replaced her usual smile. The corners of Daryl's mouth twitched into a frown, uncertain as to what the woman was about to say or ask.

"Do you know what they want," she inquired, her voice low. "The leaders?"

"They said it's just bimonthly check up," Beth replied, her gaze turning to Daryl. "We don't know much else."

Donna merely shook her head. "When we first arrived at Hurndon, things...things weren't like this. Then came the Common Law. First it gave couples a year. Then it dropped to six months. Now three, can you imagine if it were to go any lower? I don't think it's possible but..." She swallowed, teeth pressing down on her lower lip. "I should be grateful. I know we don't have to face walkers and food, what little we get, is provided and shelter but..." Donna inhaled, her eyes traveling to the door. "Sometimes I wonder if maybe we shouldn't have come."

Noon came much faster than Daryl would have liked. His feet dragged against the cobblestone path, Beth walking equally as hesitant as he felt. Neither of them wanted to be here, despite the pleasing results that the leaders would surely find at Beth's pregnancy. When they approached the government building, two guards stood at attention at the doors. It was possible, the archer consider, that they were set there to protect the leaders in case someone, like himself, who found the Common Law unjust, decided to attack. Something Daryl would gladly risk if the girl wasn't a part of his life.

"What business do you have here?" One of the men asked, his face void of any expression.

Beth retrieved the letter from her pocket, holding it out to the man who snatched it in response. The corners of the archer's mouth twisted into a frown as he watched the guard's eyes scan over the notice. With a nod, he stepped back, allowing the two entrance into the old church building. Beth's eyes briefly met Daryl's a look of concern plastered across her face. Daryl inhaled, his hand hesitating before he awkwardly placed it on Beth's shoulder. He was never good at showing reassurance, but attempting was the best he could do.

Their footsteps echoed through the hall as they made their way into the atrium, the air surprisingly cool as they pushed through the double doors. As it had been at their wedding, the three leaders sat at the front, chairs pulled forward, eyes fixed on the couple. But unlike their marriage ceremony, a fourth had joined the mix. Daryl felt his heart stop, his stomach sinking to his feet as he recognized the man before them. The Governor.

"Mr. Daryl and Beth Dixon," one of the leaders read. "Five minutes late, I see." Daryl opened his mouth to reply, but the man continued. "As per usual, we hold a meeting with every couple bonded by the Common Law to see how such is going." With that, he withdrew a slip from the podium, eyes briefly scanning the notice. "I see that yesterday it was confirmed that you are expecting, Ms. Dixon. And how far along are you exactly?"

"A few weeks," Beth confirmed, her voice surprisingly unwavering.

The man nodded, his gaze turning to the others that sat before them. Briefly they murmured in quiet, eyes occasionally flickering to Beth and Daryl. Finally it was the Governor who cleared his throat, mouth upturned into a smile that held no friendliness.

"Mr. Dixon, it is a pleasure to meet with you once more," Daryl ignored Beth's eyes fixed on him in confusion as the Governor continued. "Your work within the Common Law is greatly appreciated, especially since you have done so before the expectation date." He paused, eyes fixed on Daryl's. "Of course, this is only the beginning of what is expected of you both, as I'm sure you're well aware."

The archer's face masked with anger at the Governor's words. Hadn't they done enough as it was? His gaze momentarily turned to Beth, her own attention directed solely on the leaders. Her expression was still, but Daryl could tell she clearly wasn't feeling well and the added stress from this latest announcement had only made things worse. The Governor continued to smile however, his eyes remaining on both Daryl and Beth.

"Weekly appointments will be set in place in order to make sure all is well with your child, Mrs. Dixon," The Governor stated. "And of course, once your child is born, you will receive a six month grace period before the conception of the second child is required."

"Wait," Daryl interrupted, his voice washed with outrage. "We fuckin' did as you asked. What the hell do you mean "second child"?"

"As stated in the bylaws," the Governor said clearly. "There are several points of the Common Law that I must insist you get accustomed to. As you know, work is one of them. As is marriage and children. I suggest you read up on everything. Perhaps a visit to the archives would do you some much needed good."

"I ain't need to go to some damn library," the archer hissed. "This is fuckin' illegal."

"Daryl," Beth murmured from his side. "Don't."

"No," he growled, shrugging Beth away. "No, this ain't right. You can't force us to do this. You can't force her."

"It isn't really your decision now, is it, Mr. Dixon?" The Governor stated, the smile fading from his face. "Now I would advise you on your language and speech. It once may have been appropriate before the outbreak, but there is a new government now. Hurndon does not take kindly to criticism."

"I ain't give a shit what Hurndon wants or doesn't," Daryl growled, taking a step closer to the Governor. "You are a twisted motherfuckin' asshole."

The Governor's expression changed, a more sinister tone masking his usual expression. "No matter what, you're nothin' more than a sheep followin' a shepherd. And you'll always be that. Now go on before I-"

Without warning, Daryl's fist collided with the Governor's nose. Beth inhaled sharply, the man stumbling backwards slightly from the blow. Shouts could be heard, but as to where they were coming from, Daryl wasn't sure. Repeatedly his fist smashed against the other man's face, his own knuckles raw from the action. Whether it was his blood or The Governor's, he was unsure. But anger and rage had bubbled into one and the thoughts of his safety and avoiding risk had melted away into a fury like no other.

Hands grabbed him from behind and thrust him backwards, digging into the flesh of his biceps as he was tugged towards the door. The Governor lay still on the ground, his face bruised and battered as the other leaders knelt over him. As his eyes met Beth's, he immediately realized his terrible error, Morgan's words replaying in his mind as he was dragged out onto the street, feet scraping against the ground. Within seconds, his hands were bond to a wooden pole that sat in the middle of the town's square, shirt torn from his back.

"Get outta here," he hissed, eyes meeting Beth's as she stood in horror, a crowd forming around the scene. "Get outta here. Go!"

She didn't need to see this. He didn't want her to see this. His fatal mistake and loss of control of himself could've very well cost them both their lives. His fingers dug into his palms, the ropes tugging at the flesh of his wrists as one of the guards stepped forward. He didn't need to turn to know who it was. Stomach twisting, he heard the sound of the whip slapping against the solid ground behind him.

"If it isn't my friend from the wall," Gordon hissed, his tone mocking as he moved closer to Daryl. "How's about we have some fun?"

Daryl's eyes locked on a member of the crowd. Allen. Inhaling sharply, he gazed at the man in the hopes he'd understand. Beth was frozen in place, her expression terrified as she tried to push her way towards Daryl. Instantly Allen grabbed her, ignoring her protests as he pulled her away from what was about to happen. A sense of comfort found the archer at Beth's exit, only to be overtaken by the searing pain as the whip made contact with his bare flesh.

It was like a knife, the pain causing his vision to go white as the leather bore into his unprotected skin, reopening the scars from his father long ago. He bit down on his cheek, the bitter taste of blood meeting his tongue as he tried not to scream. He would not give them that satisfaction. At the second lash, his skin was on fire, the pain burning as his flesh became battered, eyes squeezing shut as he inhaled sharply through his nose. He would not scream. He would do nothing.

Again and again the whip came down on his back, something wet trickling down his skin as the leather bore deeper into his flesh. The sound of the crowd's protests were lost, pain overtaking any and all sense. He lost count of the number of times the whip met his back. Agony and Anguish washing over his mind like a tidal wave, the thought of death seeming so welcoming as numbness overcame his form. The darkness of unconsciousness welcoming as he slipped away.

**Yeah, so I thought public whippings would be something that Hurndon would have with the more severe cases. As well as Daryl losing his temper because he sort of needs to work on that. And I thought this would be a great way and reason for the Governor to get his eye patch. Next chapter will have some major Bethyl fluff. And yes, before anyone else says it, I realize the scene was a lot like the Hunger Games moment. But the government is dystopian in that way. Feedback is greatly loved and appreciated! I may post tomorrow as well if motivation finds me! I hope you enjoyed! Until next time! -Jen**


	10. Chapter ten

**You folks are amazing, you know that? And to thank you for it, here's an update for three days in a row. I hope you aren't getting bored of this story because I post so much. Anyway, a hurricane of windy gratitude and watery love to DarylDixon'sLover, sillymommy2010, Mione788, Anara, StephMcG, casinovixen081212, Guest, doofydizee, Merry Beaker Fractale, Guest, kevkye, TWDFan05, rebecca taylor, NanamiYatsumaki, LolaRitaVida, cherrywineBA, crimsonrose0003, orayofsunshine, jbolinex, SweetSeductionCherryB, heatherrk, Rin Is The Grudge Lady, Random Fic Reader, LegoMama0614, soniabell, Girl who likes to lay under tables, jeanf, GabbyAbby, Bethyl-Love-Blue-Eyes55, An Amber Pen, sammxhill, Spoonlicker, staceycoonan, Atilia Dawn Black, breathingforbethyl, lulu52, ledanna, and boothandbones4ever for your fantastic, all inspiring feedback messages! Now without further ado, the next chapter!  
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Chapter ten:

It was the agonizing burn that first brought the archer back to reality. His skin prickled, ached in indescribable agony where it had been mutilated beyond previous recognition. He wasn't dead, or at least, perhaps he was in Hell. Wherever Daryl Dixon happened to be, the lingering anguish from his punishment made itself clearly known. He bit back a moan, inner cheek raw as he tried to regain control of himself. His eyes felt heavy, body seemingly weighed down as he attempted to focus on his auditory surroundings.

"Daryl?"

The voice was soft, filled with the utmost concern. Beth. He tried to open his mouth, to readjust himself. But he immediately regretted the action with a white, hot shock of pain electrified throughout his person. An unsuppressed groan escaped from his lips as he remain still, the torn skin on his back sharp and unforgiving. Something damp touched his brow, wetting his forehead as droplets of water dripped irritatingly down his nose. If he had the strength, he'd wipe them away. But now, as vulnerable and wounded as he was, it seemed pointless.

"How is he?" Came another voice, one it took a longer moment to recognize. Morgan. "Fever gone down at all?"

"I dunno," Beth replied, her voice meek as the moisten object plastered itself on his forehead. "He's comin' to. Daryl?"

He inhaled, the mere action sending yet another shock of pain through his body. He was lying on his stomach, the position somewhat uncomfortable but bearable enough that he didn't wish to be turned over onto his gashes. He could feel Beth's hand resting on his arm, her thumb lightly caressing his bicep as her voice dropped to an indistinguishable murmur in conversation with Morgan.

"You're lucky they didn't damn well kill you," he heard the other man say. "That was incredibly stupid of you."

"At least he got a few good punches in," replied another. "Messed up the Governor's face pretty good, if rumor's correct."

"Allen," scolded someone else. "That's enough of that. Get the boys to bed, I'll see what we have for his injuries. We don't have much medicine. What little Tylenol we had was used up when Morgan was..." her voice trailed off. "I'll look again though."

Slowly, with what remaining energy he had left, the archer pried his eyelids open. His vision blurred, eventually coming into focus to reveal the faces to the voices he heard: Beth, Allen, Donna, and Morgan. All who looked at him with either disapproval, concern, or pride. He exhaled, exhaustion sweeping over his body as his eyes immediately locked onto Beth's. Her expression was weary, face pale with worry and lack of sleep. However long he had been out, it had obviously been awhile.

"'Mm alright," he mumbled, trying to reassure his wife. "Don't hurt that bad."

The corners of Beth's mouth twisted into a thin smile. "You are as bad a liar as you are with your temper, Daryl Dixon."

He winced, biting his tongue as another wave of pain washed over him. He felt Beth's fingers tighten around his arm, her expression immediately shifting back into one of pure worry as he slowly managed to relax his ridge position. He knew it was bad. Exactly how terrible, he didn't want to know. But the pain was enough to allow him some idea of the damage caused by Gordon and his whip.

"I...I wasn't sure what would happen," Beth said quietly, her hand still resting on his arm. "Allen pulled me away but I...I never thought he was gonna stop. And then this man stepped forward and he stopped it. Even helped Allen get you back home."

"Man?" Daryl managed to mumble, remaining as still as he could in order to avoid worsening his condition.

"Said his name was Rick Grimes," she murmured. "He was here for a bit, keepin' an eye on you. But then he had to go back and check on his kids. Even said he'd come by later to see how you were doin'." She paused, inhaling. "He saved your life, Daryl. If he hadn't stepped in then..." She didn't finish her statement, thumb still rubbing circles against the untouched skin of his arm. "I'm just so thankful," she exclaimed. "I'm just glad you're alive."

Rick Grimes. The stranger from the convey. The worker from the house. The man who had saved his life. It seemed so coincidental that life was dragging him in the direction of this man. He didn't believe in miracles or destiny, but something about Rick Grimes brought forth the idea that something was bound to happen. That perhaps this would finally prove to be a means of escape from the hell that was Hurndon. The man said he had people. Survived out in the world for so long without the comforts of safety. Perhaps this would finally be their ticket to freedom.

"I found an Advil," came Donna's voice as she returned to the living room. "It was the last one, back in the cabinet. I know it isn't much, but at least it'll do something to relieve you. If only a little."

Beth's hand cupped the underside of his chin as Donna placed the pill on his tongue. The water was cold, unexpected as the other woman tipped a cup into his mouth, causing the archer to cough. The motion sent shocks of pain throughout his body, Daryl openly cursing as both woman uttered several apologies for the action. As the pain settled back down to barely bearable, the archer's tense position relaxed, the relief small but much desired.

"You should go to bed," he mumbled, lazily meeting Beth's stare. "It ain't good for you to miss sleep."

"I'm more than fine," the girl assured him. "It's you I'm worried about."

"I can take care of myself," he muttered, grunting as he accidentally moved.

The corners of Beth's mouth upturned into a weak smile. "Clearly."

Sleep seemed like a welcoming thought as his body became more aware of the pain that encompassed it. He buried his face in the pillow, hoping to hold back any unpleasant sounds that might upset Beth. It was agony, absolute torture. Even when his father beat him as a child, never had the lash marks been as violent as these were now. He was nearly sure Gordon had planned to kill him if Rick hadn't stepped in. And even then, he highly doubted that forgiveness would be given on his benefit. What he had done would surely come back to bite him more in the ass. But if it got Beth too, he'd never forgive himself.

"Go upstairs and sleep," he mumbled, noticing Beth sinking further onto the ground, head resting on the edge of the couch. "You're exhausted."

"I'm not leavin' you," she yawned, her words slurred as drowsiness slipped into her present mind. "I'll be fine."

Daryl humphed and would've shaken his head if the action wouldn't have caused him pain to do so. As the minutes slowly ticked away into hours, Beth's consciousness began to slip from her grasp. Eventually she was out cold, forehead resting on the end cushion of the couch, hand slipped into Daryl's. The archer watched her out of his peripheral vision, an odd sense of comfort found in her presence.

"Good to see you're awake," came a voice.

Daryl stiffened, ignoring the pain it caused his body as he looked towards the entrance of the room. There, standing in a shirt that the archer assumed was stained in his own blood, was none other than Rick Grimes. The man eyed him quietly, stepping into the room softly as not to wake Beth. Daryl's eyes locked on his, unsure if he should thank him or utter another means of conversational topic.

"Thanks," he mumbled. "Beth told me what you did."

"I was a sheriff before everythang turned to shit," Rick explained. "I know my right from wrong and what happened today was far from just. I see what you mean now about this town. Heard people talkin' bout stuff. It's worse though, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Daryl mumbled, his eyes traveling down to Beth. "It is."

Rick licked his lips, squatting down in front of the archer. "I came her because I thought my kids would be safe. Carl's strong, got a good head on his shoulders. But Judith, she ain't but a year or so along. I can't afford to let anything happen to my children. I've already lost my wife. My people. I will not lose them too."

"Your kids should be the least of your concern," Daryl mumbled, exhaustion tugging at his frame. "Government ain't interested in them, per say. But you..." he inhaled, the pain seeming to thrust him further towards unconsciousness. "They'll want you. You'd be useful to them."

"Whaddya mean," the sheriff inquired, voice low as not to disturb Beth. "What exactly is this place?"

Daryl's eyelids grew heavy, his body feeling limp as the medicine provided little relief to his aches and pains. Slowly he allowed himself to slip away, mouth moving in an attempt to answer Rick's question. He was so tired. So weak. The tendrils of exhaustion wrapped themselves around his ankles and wrists, bringing him back into the abscess that was dreamless sleep.

The relief that was unconsciousness was short lived as morning came far too early for the archer's liking. He blinked, grunting in agony as his wounds seemed to feel far worse than they had before. Something was lain across them, tape and clothe like. Bandages, he figured. Poorly strewn together, but at least something to protect his injuries from whatever the hell was floating around.

"Daryl?" Came the weary voice by his side.

The archer barely turned his head, noting the girl still kneeling at his side. Beth looked exhausted, her face paler than it had been the night before, eyes slightly red from lack of sleep. He frowned softly, a sense of guilt coming over him that she had chosen to stay by his side for the entire night. They had, after all, known each other for a little under two months and yet she still acted as if she were inclined to be with him during his suffering.

"Shoulda gone upstairs and slept," he mumbled, voice slightly muffled by the pillow. "Told you not to stay down here."

"And I told you I wasn't gonna leave you alone," she yawned, wincing slightly as she stretched. "How're you feelin'?"

"Like a fuckin' train rolled over my back," he muttered, exhaling as her met her gaze.

"Oh."

"But I ain't worried bout me," he mumbled. "Ain't the first time this has happened. Scars build scars, I'll survive. Always have."

"Just..." She chewed momentarily on her bottom lip, almost as if she were in deep thought. "Just don't do somethin' reckless like that again, okay? I know we aren't exactly close, but it doesn't mean that I don't care about you."

She loved easily, cared too quickly. Daryl had realized this early on, how much compassion she held. He didn't deserve any of it. After the incident yesterday, he wouldn't have been surprised if she feared him. And yet, she did not. She took care of him. Hell, she had stayed by his side for the entirety of the night. Despite, after all, not feeling to well due to the early stages of her pregnancy. Something he tried not to focus on for the time being.

"Can I convince you to eat a little somethin'?" Beth murmured, her stare fixated on his. "Jenny promised to make somethin' simple last night. Some soup? I know it isn't a breakfast food, but at least it's easy enough for you to eat."

"Does it involve me bein' fed like a baby?" He muttered.

"Well, unless you wanna try to sit up, but I wouldn't advise that. Morgan worked hard on those bandages. He'll change them later, he said. You were bleedin' a lot and it was..." she paused. "worrisome."

Daryl exhaled, the thought of being so vulnerable seeming so loathing to him. Nevertheless, his pain was great and any help that someone could give seemed reasonably fine with him for now. He gave a small nod, ignoring the look of relief on his wife's features as she stood and headed towards the kitchen, only to return moments later with a bowl of chicken broth accompanied by the peels of cucumbers.

"Looks delicious," he muttered sarcastically.

"Be nice," Beth interjected. "She worked hard on it."

Daryl grunted, relenting as he opened his mouth for a spoonful. It was warm, melting against the desert in his throat and mouth as he swallowed. It felt so good to have something in his system, his body suddenly reminded of the hunger he had apparently been suppressing the night before. He tried not to meet Beth's gaze as she fed him, feeling slightly embarrassed by it.

"I'm gonna try to have someone cover my shift at the garden today," she said, scooping another spoonful into Daryl's mouth. "Maybe someone would be willin' to switch with me. I could double up on shifts or somethin'."

"You ain't need to do that," he mumbled, accepting the mouthful of broth. "I can take care of myself."

"I'm worried you'll get into more trouble if I don't stay," she stated, a slight tone of humor in her voice. "Really Daryl, I don't mind. What you did for me back there. Back at the government house...it was thoughtful. Reckless. But I appreciated it. And I'm sorry you got hurt because of it."

"You ain't need to be apologizin' neither," Daryl muttered. "It was my own damn fault. Sometimes I need to think before I act."

"You do," Beth said, her gaze softening as she continued to meet his stare. "But we can work on that later."

There was something about her statement that brought forth a strange feeling within Daryl. Something he had never felt before. It was different, but not in bad way. As they continued to meet each other's gaze, both were suddenly interrupted when Morgan appeared in the room. His face lacked any sign of kindness as he approached Daryl, a letter in hand.

"What is that?" Daryl questioned, his stomach dropping at the though. "Give it to Beth."

He watched silently as she opened it, her eyes scanning the slip of paper before she lowered it, meeting Daryl's gaze with a look of concern.

"It's from the government," she said softly, hands clenched around the thin paper. "They're reassigning your job."

"To what," Daryl muttered, wincing as he pulled at the tape that held his wounds closed. "My damn buildin' skills ain't good enough for them?"

But Beth was not smiling, her face void of any emotions as she uttered the words from the notice.

"Walker Control."

**So as punish, Daryl gets to go into the line of danger and deal with walkers. I guess that's better than being killed. But this isn't his last encounter with the Governor. Oh no, we are only at the beginning folks. Feedback is greatly loved and appreciated! It seriously keeps the updates coming! Let's me know what you'd like to see more of or anything in general! (Plus it's rather motivating updates wise). Alright folks, until next post! -Jen**


	11. Chapter eleven

**You guys are truly fantastic, you know that? Alrighty, as usual, a warm, virtual embrace of gratitude to DarylDixon'sLover, sillymommy2010, casinovixen081212, TheGoldenElf, goshbirdie, ledanna, Dixongurl, mellymoo13, rebecca taylor, An Amber Pen, kevkye, Saffia, Merry Beaker Fractale, LegoMama0614, TWDFan05, Guest, IMKittyBoo, ABewilderedBear, MamaDCB, staceycoonan, SweetSeductionCherryB, jeanf, sammxhill, sportschick44, BlackLabCoat, Random Fic Reader, Guest, heatherrk, BurrSquee, MaidenAlice, Serialkillingyou, echteliebe, DixonShipster, crimsonrose0003, boothandbones4ever, Atilia Dawn Black, Anara, Mione788, and hmatlock for your awesome, always inspiring feedback messages! Now, onto the next chapter!  
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Chapter eleven:

By the next morning, the lash marks on Daryl's back had become inflamed, the pain seeming far worse than when it had been inflicted. He hadn't moved from the couch, except to journey to the bathroom, since the incident in the town's square. And yet, despite his injuries, he was expected to begin his new job that day. The archer stood uneasy, his knees feeling less than stable as Morgan wound a bandage around his mid to upper section several times. He still began to bleed from movement and this, though it wasn't much, would at least protect his gashes while he was out in the elements.

"It won't do much," the man exhaled, stepping back to examine his work. "But at least it'll provide you with somethin'."

"Ain't like we got much choice anyhow," the archer mumbled, wincing as he took a step forward. "Thanks."

Morgan merely nodded, winding up the remainder of the bandage tape as Beth approached from the sitting room entrance. Her expression was kind, but Daryl could see the concern in her gaze as she sported his crossbow. He took it from her, gingerly resting it over the lesser of his injured shoulders. Briefly he glanced down at her still flat stomach, his mind wandering to the thoughts of her pregnancy. Since it had been confirmed, they hadn't much discussed it. Beth would suffer from nausea mostly, that much he realized when she wasn't in the attic in the early hours of the day. But other than that symptom, nothing really stood out yet.

"Be careful," she murmured, her stare locking onto his own. "Try not to strain yourself too much. Daddy always said that."

"I'll be fine," he assured her. "Don't go worryin' about me. I'll be back in a few hours, alright?"

There wasn't much relief in her features as she gave a small nod, her eyes following him as he walked towards the door. The air was surprisingly cool as he stepped out into the open, the feeling somewhat comforting to the heat that rose from his swollen wounds. He inhaled, swallowing hard as a sting of pain slowly crawled across his nerves as he ventured towards the eastern wall, the location where most of the walker observation was being currently held.

He wasn't too sure exactly what his new job entailed, only that the walker control was done in order to allow the conveys to exit and reenter the town without much trouble. He walked stiffly approached the designated area, bow occasionally brushing against the edge of a wound, causing a searing pain to shoot throughout his body. As he drew closer to the eastern wall, he was met by several individuals that were strapping up in makeshift suits, nothing that would offer serious protection. Surgical face masks. Leather sleeves that only made it partially up their arms. He stood there, observing the sight when a voice caught him slight off guard.

"You must be the latest recruit they told me about. Daryl Dixon?" The archer turned, coming face to face with a man whose features and stance held much authority. "Name's Shane Walsh. I was informed of your incident in town a few days ago. I expect no trouble from you. I ain't about to let some shithead screw up my work and let everythin' fall on my ass. Are we clear?"

Already Daryl's distaste for the man had nearly risen to the level that Gordon stood at. Nevertheless he nodded, in too much pain to argue or let his reckless nature cause any more issues for him now. Shane exhaled, arms folded over his chest as he glanced towards the other workers. Most had already suited up, grabbing weapons that seemed poor in quality than those that were located in the arsenal.

"Good," Shane exclaimed, pulling Daryl from his thoughts. "So here's the drill. We go out, catch the attention of any walkers that seem to be going in the direction of the town's entrance, exterminate and burn the bodies. Ain't gonna let the stench sicken the hundreds of citizens Hurndon has. There's enough shit that does that anyway." He paused, dark eyes looking over the archer. "If you're bit, scratched, or injured by a walker in any way, I will not hesitate to shoot you in your skull. Is that understood?"

"Yeah," Daryl grumbled, voice lacking any friendliness. "Got it."

"Go suit up," Shane said, nodding towards a discarded pile of the less desirable armor. "If it ain't fit, make it work. We don't got much to offer but it's better than going out there bare skinned." He looked at Daryl's weapon, mouth forming into a frown. "Where'd you get that?"

"It's mine," Daryl said coldly. "And I ain't using any of your fuckin' squirt guns instead."

"Watch your tone with me," Shane replied, his voice dark. "Government's got an eye on you. After what you did, you best be careful. People ain't gonna be so nice if you fuck it up again." He paused, his glare continuing to meet Daryl's. "You can keep your crossbow, but don't come cryin' to me if a herd of walkers gang up on you. Ain't nobody lookin' out for each other out there. We get the job done. Losses ain't so important. Everyone can be replaced."

It seemed like a rather odd statement to Daryl, seeing as Hurndon was so pressed for reproduction, but he decided not to challenge Shane any further. The corners of his mouth twisted downward as he made his way over to the pile of protective gear, rummaging though it in the hopes of finding something half decent. As he pulled out an arm band that looked like it had been used for centuries, his attention was redirected once again by another voice.

"Bottom of the pile is usually the best." Daryl turned, his gaze meeting a much older man's expression. "I'm Dale," he introduced, holding out his hand. Daryl took it, shaking it awkwardly before the handshake dropped. "You're the new guy right? The job's not so bad. Plus the benefits are rather decent. We get first pick of the rations usually. Well, after the guards of course."

"That guy always an asshole," Daryl inquired, nodding towards a distracted Shane.

"He can be okay," Dale explained, lifting up two leather arm pieces. "As long as you stay on his good side. Bit rough around the edges, was a cop before the outbreak."

"That's evident enough," the archer scoffed, taking the bands from the other man. "Thanks."

"No problem," he nodded, glancing towards where most of the other workers had trudged off to. "We'd better go. Shane isn't known for his patience, if you haven't figured that out yet."

Together they made their way over to the crowd, Shane moving to stand in front of everyone. Unlike the rest, his own gear seemed much more new and sturdy than what the others were given. Daryl's frown deepened as the man began to recite the goals of today's watch and what was expected of everyone involved. At one point, the man's eyes focused on the archer, a frown forming on the leader's face as he continued to speak.

"When the gate opens," he proclaimed. "You go through as fast as you can. We ain't gonna risk lettin' any of those damn biters in. Once out, distract what you can, take out when you can, and for the love of Jesus H Christ, watch your damn ammunition. Limit today is two rounds, Government says we're runnin' low. Clear?"

Mumbles of agreement could be heard as a few of the men moved forward and began to tug on the heavy wooden doors that were one of the few access points of Hurndon. Without even realizing it at first, Daryl found himself shoved towards the entrance, his back protesting as he stepped into the open field. At once he was met by what seemed like a herd of fifty maybe even a hundred walkers, all immediately turning at the sound and smell of the humans.

"Welcome to Walker Control," Dale muttered, his gun pointed as one of the creatures stumbled towards him, snarling before a bullet embedded itself in its brain.

Daryl retrieved the crossbow from his shoulder, loading and firing an arrow right as a walker reached towards him. He grunted, foot pressed down on the corpse's chest as he yanked the weapon from his head before proceeding through the field. Many of the men were shouting, bullets whizzing past as walkers seemed to come from left to right. Daryl stopped momentarily, panting heavily as he looked around. It was a mad house. Some of the men falling to the ground, being overtaken by the walkers that hunted them. His back ached, wounds burning as he painful pulled another arrow back and fired it into the forehead of one of the biters.

Minutes passed, how truly long, Daryl was unsure. But his arrows seemed to be growing less usable the longer he fired them at the ever passing walkers. He glanced towards Dale, watching as the man shoved a knife into a growling walker's temple, pulling it out with a strength that the archer did not expect to come from such an older person. He exhaled, continuing to fight as he noticed Shane a few yards a head taking walkers out without so much as a moment of pause. There was anger in his movements, calculation as he fired bullet after bullet at the herd as it approached him.

As Daryl moved to take out another walker, he heard a cry not but a few feet away. Turning, to his horror, he saw Dale fall as two walkers stumbled over top of him. Instinct kicked in, the archer moving towards the troubled man as a hand came down on his shoulder. He struggled, elbowing his assailant in the stomach as the man held him back, preventing the archer from reaching the other figure.

"Let fuckin' go of me," Daryl hissed, struggling against the man's hold.

"It's too late," Shane shouted, watching as a walker dug its teeth into the unarmed man's neck. "Riskin' your life for someone else's ain't a thing out here."

Daryl stared in shock, Dale gurgling as bright crimson trickled down his exposed skin, strips of flesh being torn like fat from a steak as the walkers congregated onto his dying form. It was sick. Twisted. The archer's stomach dropping as he watched the only man who had been nice to him thus far slowly be drained of his life as the biters indulged in the meal that was him. Daryl shoved Shane back, knocking the other man to the ground.

"Fuck you," he spat. "He coulda been saved!"

"The risks were too great," the man shouted, immediately standing back up. "An' if you haven't fuckin' realized that yet, you have a shit ton to learn. Survivin' is the only way of life now. Get that through your damn thick skull."

Surviving. That's what it came down to. Making through this world that had gone to shit a long time ago. Repopulating. Loveless. People had chosen to become primative rather than find humanity. In the end of the day, that was what Hurndon cared about. Daryl sauntered back home after his shift, thrusting his crossbow and dirty arrows onto the ground by the door as he ignored Jenny's greeting. He needed to clear his thoughts, Dale's death still running rampant in his mind as he climbed slowly up the ladder and entered into the attic. His back ached in pain, his shirt sticking to the wet blood that had begun to seep from his wounds.

"Daryl?"

The archer did not turn to meet Beth's gaze as he moved across the attic floor, slowly easing himself down onto the ground. His fingers dug into the fabric of the blankets that surrounded him, emotions trying to break through the cracks of his psyche. He could hear Beth approaching him, felt her as she slid down beside him, her hand resting on his arm. He was not alright. None of this was okay.

"Are you okay?" she inquired, Daryl finding her question obviously stupid. "Can I do anythin' for you."

"No," he muttered. "I ain't need anythin' from anyone."

"Well even so, I'm gonna be here for you," Beth exhaled, adjusting her position on the floor. "Everyone needs somebody. You don't have to tell me what happened today, but if you want to, I'm a pretty good listener."

Daryl didn't reply, only stare towards the bed. He didn't flinch however when Beth's fingers intertwined with his own. It felt good to have her here. To have someone who could offer him the comfort he didn't realize he sought so deeply. They remained there for a good while, only retreating when it was time for dinner. Daryl didn't eat much that night, the pain from his back enough to spoil his appetite. Potato stock with carrots and peppers, perhaps not the most filling of meals, but it was hard to complain after years of squirrel meat and whatever berries he could find.

When they finally retreated to bed, Daryl returned to his spot on the couch. His back was far from well enough to be on the bed and despite Beth's protest in willing to switch spots with him, he held his ground firmly and decided to remain in the living room. Sleep came much faster than he had expected, the drowsiness and exertion from today's activities wearing him far much more than he had been in a long time. He remained there on the couch, the dreamless state welcoming until it was interrupted by someone calling his name.

"Daryl?"

At first he ignored the voice, frowning as he buried his face deeper into the pillow. He was exhausted and whoever demanded his attention now probably was unaware of his need for rest. Or rather, wanted some choice words directed at them for the interruption.

"Daryl?"

Finally he opened his eyes, blinking through the darkness to see Beth standing over him. Anger melted away into concern when he noticed how pale she looked in what little moonlight there was. Her arms were clutched around her stomach, face contorted into a look of distress as her gaze met his own.

"What?" He asked, forcing himself to sit up despite his protesting wounds. "What's wrong?"

"I'm bleedin'." She murmured, her eyes flickering down to her pants.

Sure enough, Daryl could make out the dark stain that gathered around her crotch. His stomach dropped for a second time that night, fear finding its way into his chest as he met Beth's frantic gaze once more. Something was wrong. Terribly wrong. And deep within the pit of himself, he knew that whatever it was, the outcome was grave. For the first time in his life, despite everything that he possibly felt from the outbreak, true fear manifested in the archer's mind.

**Well, I do like a good cliff hanger. But I will let you know, Beth having a baby is an important part of this story. Feedback is greatly loved and appreciated. Let me know your thoughts. What you want to see. What you liked. I appreciate even the smallest of comments! Now I do have a hefty schedule this weekend so I'll try my best to update on Saturday or Sunday, but if not, definitely Monday and all through Thanksgiving week. Until next time! -Jen**


	12. Chapter twelve

**I am just left in awe at the amount of feedback this story has received thus far! Because of this, despite what I said last chapter, I woke up at three in the morning to write this. So, as usual, a blizzard of thanks to DarylDixon'sLover, rachelluv11, sillymommy2010, lulu52, Mione788, kevkye, Saffia, MaidenAlice, Dixongurl, lilhanna, StephMcG, Hiiri 25, Guest, Oktobertnzer, casinovixen081212, NanamiYatsumaki, breathingforbethyl, Spoonlicker, BelleCelestyn, BlackLabCoat, LegoMama0614, rebecca taylor, orayofsunshine, Crisphe, TWDFan05, cherrywineBA, Sydmherman, EmLouD, jbolinex, An Amber Pen, TWDobsession, cobrien230, jeanf, Maddie, BurrSquee, SweetSeductionCherryB, crimsonrose0003, and Nacha for your fantastic, always motivating and inspiring feedback messages! And much gratitude to those who have favorited and followed! Now onto the next chapter! **

Chapter twelve:

For a few moments, Daryl's mind slipped into the numbing denial that lift him thoughtless, completely distracted from the true danger that stood in front of him. Beth trembled, her knees seeming unstable as she remained at his side, arms hugging her chest in such a way, one would assume she was cold. Finally, when the archer gained control of his mind, he forced himself up, ignoring the pain in his back as he moved towards Beth. She met his gaze, her eyes watering, but not a single tear slipped from them. Clearly she was as frightened as he was, if not more, but as he was doing, she remained strong.

"I'll carry you," he insisted. "To the clinic...I'll carry you."

"You can't," Beth whispered. "Your back-"

"I ain't give a rat's ass about my back," replied the archer, trying to hide the waver in his own tone. "I ain't about to make you walk there."

She nodded, unwrapping her arms from around herself as she reached forward. With a slight struggle, Daryl managed to lift her up, grunting as the throbs of pain shot through his injured back. What little had healed began to reopen, wetting the back of his shirt as he moved towards the door. He forced his shoes on, trying not to jostle her as he stepped out into the night. The air was cool, the wind warm as it blew. The night seemed almost too perfect despite what was happening, almost if nature was mocking their certain tragedy.

"It's gonna be okay," Daryl kept mumbling, more for his own benefit than Beth's. "It's probably nothin' at all."

"I didn't mean to kill it," she whispered. "I didn't mean-"

"Don't be sayin' that," the archer replied, his voice more harsh than he had meant it to be. "It ain't dead and you sure as hell didn't kill it. It's gonna be fine. They'll take care of you."

His voice lacked confidence and he knew Beth could tell. But he couldn't afford to think that they'd lost it. Even though it had been forced upon them, it was still his child. Her child. And the penalty that Beth would face if it was lost was unthinkable. Hurndon would not simply believe it was a miscarriage, if in fact she had, they'd be convinced it was termination by her own hands. He's heard of a few women that tried it. Bad husbands. The lack of desire for children. What had happened to them as a result, he wasn't sure. But he knew, ultimately, that if he and Morgan were beat for something viewed less severe in the Government's eyes, whatever Hurndon did to those who lost their pregnancies surely held a far worse punishment.

When they finally approached the clinic, Daryl half wondered if it was even open. But by the grace of God, dim lights illuminated through the set of double doors. He struggled, his back shooting electrifying pains throughout his body as he struggled to get the door open. Finally someone rushed to open it, a different person than when he and Beth first had come to confirm the pregnancy to begin with. Her name tag read Amy and for a moment, Daryl found himself slightly taken aback by how much she resembled the Governor's wife.

"What's wrong," she inquired, her voice holding true concern. "Are you-" Her eyes immediately locked on the stain that had made itself known through Beth's thin pajama pants. "Come inside," she said quickly, gripping the door open as Daryl slide inside the entrance. "How far along?"

"A few weeks," Beth replied, her voice trembling as Amy ushered them into a much larger room than they'd been given before. "I was sleepin' and then I woke up cause I felt somethin' wet and..." she trailed off, her voice breaking. "I didn't mean for this to happen."

"Are you in any pain?" Amy asked, riffling through a tool box that had been constructed into a medical kit. "Cramping? Dull aches?"

Beth shook her head, "Just bleedin'." She swallowed hard, watching as Amy slid a pair of white gloves on. "I just looked down and saw it, I...I couldn't bring myself to check if..."

"I'm gonna bring your pants down to your ankles," Amy replied, concern filling her own tone. "I'll check for you, alright? This isn't your fault...what's your name?" She laughed nervously, almost as if she were trying to lighten the tension that was building within the atmosphere. "I'm Amy."

"Beth," she answered, her legs quivering as Amy slowly pulled them down passed her knees. "And my husband is Daryl."

Daryl stood off to the side, not wanting to get in the way of Amy's work. His mind was a blur, fighting between comforting Beth or leaving the doctor as much room as possible. He felt numb, despite the agonizing pain in his back. He forced himself to watch as Amy pulled down Beth's underwear, half expecting to see some embryo turned walker. He dismissed the thought, feeling sick that he even considered the possibility. Right now, it probably didn't even look that human. Nevertheless, he continued to watch, Amy's eyes scanning the blood stain that soaked through the white cloth of Beth's underpants.

"No clots," the woman murmured, her fingers brushing against the fabric. "It just looks like blood, nothing that resembles that you lost anything."

"Is she gonna be alright?" Daryl finally asked, his voice sounding surprisingly hoarse. "I mean, the blood..."

"We'll keep her overnight," Amy promised, her lips forced into a thin smile. "And monitor her, see how things look in the morning. Some women experience some bleeding during pregnancy. Stress. Sex. But I'm gonna want her to rest for a bit after she's discharged. Not to lift anything heavier than five pounds. Lie down as much as possible. Then we'll bring her in after a few days and check up on everything."

Daryl nodded his head, his eyes locking on Beth's as Amy turned slipping her gloves off to retrieve a thin nightgown and some rather bagging underwear that looked as if it were made out of paper. Beth took them gratefully, Daryl moving to her side to help her sit up. As he did so, he caught sight of Amy eyeing his back. He frowned, knowing she was noticing the blood that stained his own shirt.

"It's fine," he muttered. "It ain't nothin' to worry about."

"After we take care of her," Amy replied. "I wanna have a look at it anyway. It certainly doesn't look like nothing." Her attention returned to Beth, smile thin with exhaustion. "You can change here if you like," she offered. "There's a bathroom down the hall, but I wouldn't recommend it. The staff does a terrible job cleaning it."

Beth nodded her head, seeming less shaken up then she had been before. With Daryl's aid, she stood up, arms hugging the clothes as she set them down on the makeshift cot. Slowly, she began to remove her clothes, laying them carefully on the bed before she started to slip on the thin, uncomfortable looking hospital gown and underwear. It was baggy, hanging off her body like a tent as she turned to face Daryl, lips pressed into a small smile.

"Fashionable," she murmured. "Don't you think?"

Daryl shrugged, his mind still reeling from the events that had just taken place. Beth was going to be okay. From how Amy had put it, the baby hadn't been lost. Still, lack of sleep and adrenaline coursed through his body like a hurricane meeting a tornado. He felt nauseated, but relieved that Beth was going to be just fine. Even if she had to take it easy for the remainder of her pregnancy. The Government would make sure of it. Her job at the garden as good as gone now.

"Unfortunately, you won't be staying in this room," Amy said, breaking the silence. "There's a communal hospital room in the gym. We have curtains up at least, in between the beds. I don't think anyone is particularly sick right now. Just a few complicated births that left women here. Some broken limbs. Nothing that will be particularly harmful to you."

"I'll take anythin' at this point," Beth stated. "I'm just so grateful that..." her voice trailed off as she inhaled. "Thank you," she murmured. "For everythin'."

"It's my job," she replied, her smile still thin. "Come, I'll take you to where you can get some sleep. You look like you need it." Her eyes then returned to Daryl. "Then I'm gonna have a look at your back. No matter what you say."

Daryl was in no mindset to argue as he followed Amy, Beth by his side, into what used to be a gym. Several cots were visible from where they stood as she led them towards a bed at the end of the room, the area seeming much more private than the rest of it. Beth slowly crawled onto the bed, a sigh leaving her lips as she settled back on the rather papery looking blanket. Exhaustion seemed far more prevalent than her need for comfort now. Daryl watched her, his hand lingering as if he wanted to take a hold of hers before it returned to his side, Beth's eyelids lowering as she settled back.

"Let her look at your back," she mumbled, words almost slurred as sleep seemed to pull at her consciousness. "I'll be fine here."

Daryl exhaled, looking to Amy who nodded in agreement to Beth's words. "We have monitors," she promised. "If anything were to go amiss, we'd know."

Throwing once last longing glance at Beth, Daryl reluctantly followed Amy back into the room where he and Beth were previously located. Gingerly, Amy lifted up her shirt, her gasp causing Daryl to flinch as she examined the lash marks that bore across his skin. He knew it looked bad, probably worse than it actually felt. His eyes followed Amy as she moved to the tool box once again, retrieving a roll of gauze and what looked like a small bottle of hydrogen peroxide.

"So," she murmured, wetting a cloth as she began to wipe away at the blood that stained Daryl's back, the archer biting back a hiss. "It was you, wasn't it? The one who beat up the Governor?"

"Will my answer change how you take care of Beth?" He mumbled, wincing as the liquid burned his injures. "She's your sister, isn't she? Andrea?"

"The Governor is my brother-in-law if that's what you're asking," Amy replied, gently cleaning around the swollen area. "To be honest, I never much liked him. Andrea and I came at the start of Hurndon. He seemed so nice back then..."

"And then he forced her to marry him?" Daryl muttered, grunting as Amy hit a particularly tender spot.

"Sorry," she murmured apologetically. "No, the wedding was a mutual agreement. But soon, the Philip's facade of a character left him and he became...different. Andrea wanted to leave, but he won't let her. Well, you know the divorce policy after all." She paused, hand still resting on his back. "Were you and Beth-"

"Forced?" He muttered, fingers digging into the flesh of his palms as the agony grew worse with each stroke. "Yeah, been together for less than two months. If I knew it was gonna happen, I woulda left a long time ago. But I didn't think that they'd..." he hesitated, shaking his head. "It ain't fair, to her at least. I'm a little more than twice her age. It don't make things far."

"I think we lost that freedom long ago," she replied quietly, beginning to wrap the gauze around his midsection. "But then, I think we lost humanity a long while before that too. People forgot things, how life used to be? I'm lucky," she murmured. "I haven't been paired with anyone yet. I think that's Andrea's influence though. How she got Philip to agree..." she paused, shaking her head. "My sister still treats me like I'm little. Like we're eight and twelve again. Not that I'm complaining, but she's sometimes too willing to do what is needed to protect me."

Amy sighed, taking a step back as she surveyed her work. Daryl remained still, his mind replaying the words that had just been spoken to him. A part of him wanted to ask what the Governor's condition was. Not out of sympathy, out of curiosity about how bad he'd gotten him. But he remained silently, letting Amy slip his shirt back over his torso as she exhaled softly.

"That should help with any infections," she murmured. "I'd offer you some painkillers, but we're running low as it is. The convey is supposed to try to look for some next outing. Most pharmacy in the area have already been raided. I just hope they find something. People need medicine. It gets pretty crazy in here sometimes."

Daryl nodded, unsure how he was supposed to reply to that. Amy instead yawned, the night shift clearly taking its toll on her. The archer watched as she went and replaced the materials back in the toolbox before closing it. She turned to him, the same smile gracing her features as she glanced towards the door.

"You can go be with her now," she exclaimed. "I'm finished with you."

"Thanks," he mumbled, cracking his fingers. "For everythin' you've done tonight."

"No," she murmured, shaking her head. "Thank you."

He wasn't entirely sure what she meant with her gratitude as he made his way back to Beth. The room was quiet, a few groans here and there as he walked towards where he assumed Beth had already fallen asleep. As he approached her bedside, pulling up a metal chair to sit on, he heard the faintest of murmurs escape from her lips, eyes still closed.

"Sleep with me," she whispered, her body slightly scooting over to make room for him.

"You're tired," he mumbled. "You ain't want me there."

"No," she exhaled. "I do...Lie with me. Please."

His back was protesting, the chair hard against his wounds. He looked to Beth, wondering if she was even lucid enough to hear her words. They had grown closer since their first meeting, but surely not to any extent. But after tonight, he realized she wanted comfort. She wanted him. Not in any sexual or romantic way, she just needed him now. Right here beside her.

"Alright," he mumbled, standing as he gently reclined himself beside her. "But if I hurt you..."

"You won't," she murmured, exhaling as she curled in close to him. "You won't..."

Daryl exhaled, his hand hesitating before he allowed it to rest on the small of Beth's back. Exhaustion tugged at his consciousness, the sound of Beth's rhythmic breathing lulling as he allowed his eyes to close. The worries from today slipping away as he gave into the welcoming arms of slumber, Beth lying at his side as they both relented, giving into the abyss that was the darkness of comfort. Unaware of the trials that would soon follow.

**I hope you enjoyed this chapter, I'm so happy to get something out to you guys today! Feedback is greatly loved and appreciated! It keeps the chapters coming frequently and is very motivating. Let me know what you liked. What characters you'd like to see more of or make an appearance. For now, I am going back to bed before I go to work! Until next update! -Jen**


	13. Chapter thirteen

**Over four hundred reviews! You guys are so awesome! So as a thank you, I am pulling another three in the morning chapter writing! Okay, so much gratitude to DarylDixon'sLover, Dixongurl, sillymommy2010, GabbyAbby, MamaDCB, Mione788, rebecca taylor, Crisphe, jaimek45, Guest, Atilia Dawn Black, BurrSquee, Saffia, lulu52, TWDfan0001, MaidenAlice, heatherrk, StephMcG, crimsonrose0003, nightdrive23, Sydmherman, staceycoonan, TWDFan05, jeanf, gwenstacy, MissieMae, An Amber Pen, Guest, jbolinex, AC, BlackLabCoat, scully578, Nacha, SweetSuductionCherryB, Maddie, Guest, and sportschick44 for your lovely, always inspiring feedback messages! And now, without further ado, here is the next chapter!  
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Chapter thirteen:

A few weeks passed, maybe a month, keeping track of the time was more of Beth's thing than it was Daryl's. Food was beginning to become scarce in Hurndon, rations cut in half even for those who were expecting. The convey had cleared out most of the abandoned towns within a twenty to thirty mile radius, trips becoming longer for those who were brave enough to venture beyond the walls of Hurndon. Or who were forced. People were becoming restless, even a few daring ones questioning the Government's actions. But immediately, as most were, their words were quickly silenced and fear once more plagued the citizens.

As uncertain as they were in the beginning, Beth's pregnancy still seemed vital. Her stomach grew, not by much, but the slight swell was noticeable when her clothes were more tight fitting than the rest. Daryl couldn't help but notice it too, concern for her and the child becoming more prevalent as they days dragged on. Without the proper nourishment, the threat of miscarriage grew more troublesome. A few stories circulating of a couple of women within the town who had and were beaten by the guards who charged them with planned termination.

Daryl sat in the dining room, watching as Jenny dished out meager portions of oatmeal. It was dinnertime and yet, hot cereal seemed to be the only thing they had now. Ration day was extended to every two weeks instead of one, and even then the crowds would gather a day early to receive the better end of the meals. Beth took her seat beside her husband, exhaling softly as she eyed her own bowl tiredly. Morning sickness had not been kind to her and most often than not, her days of bed rest were spent in the bathroom, what little food she had consumed coming up and emptying her already hungry stomach.

"Oatmeal again?" Billy complained, mouth twisting into a look of disgust. "We had that for lunch."

"I hate oatmeal," his twin replied, folding his arms over his chest. "Can't we have somethin' else?"

They were young, too naive to understand the happenings of the town. Nevertheless, Donna threw them a look as she placed their bowls in front of them, chiding that they should be grateful for what they had as some little boys would be thankful for even a spoonful. They fell quiet after that, the grimaces still present on their faces as they stirred their spoons around the goopy mixture, seemingly more interested in playing with it than consuming it.

"Have mine," Daryl muttered, pushing his bowl over to Beth. "I ain't hungry."

"I'm not gonna take your food, Daryl," she protested, looking at him in displeasure. "You need every little bit you can get."

"Not as much as you," he commented, still refusing to pull his own portion back. "Besides, I said I ain't hungry."

It was a bald faced lie. In actuality, he was starving, his stomach rumbling quietly as he eyed the meal. It was nothing more than damn oatmeal and yet, how things were, it could easily pass as a meal fit for royalty. But Beth's health trumped his own need for nourishment, and going hungry for one night wouldn't kill him. He had Walker Control in the morning and usually lunch, though small, was provided. Beans mostly, maybe some jerky if they were lucky. His mouth internally salivated at the thought, stomach growling quietly as he watched Beth relent, taking his portion and scooping it into their own.

"That's it," Jenny said coming from the kitchen, her face pale underneath the dark tone of her skin. "We're completely out."

"Out of what?" Morgan questioned, setting down his spoon as he met his wife's gaze.

"Food," she whispered. "I checked every. The cabinets, underneath the sink, we're completely out."

"But ration day isn't for another few days," Allen replied, looking to the other occupants of the table. "We can't possibly be out."

"We are," she replied, taking a rattling breath. "There's nothing left."

It was a sense of silent panic that set into the adults at once. Daryl looked to Beth, her eyes at once meeting his own. He could see the concern in them, the worry. He too felt it, for her sake. The baby was not but two months along in gestation, the threat of miscarriage much higher in the first trimester than the rest. Without food, it wouldn't be able to survive. Something he couldn't afford to let happen. The stories of the women, an image of Beth suffering the same fate briefly plagued his mind. He couldn't let that happen. He wouldn't.

"Maybe if we go to the Government, they'll give us some extra," Allen suggested, looking around the table.

"That won't," Morgan replied, eyes fixed on his bowl of oatmeal as it grew cold. "None of us are important enough to even get half a can now."

"Then we'll save the oatmeal," Donna suggested. "Scoop out half of everyone's bowls and store it. Use it for tomorrow. It'll dry out again, we can recook it-"

"Beth needs the food," Daryl cut in. "We can't just cut her portion, or anyone's for that matter. It'll last what? Breakfast?"

"Then what would you suggest?" Allen cut in, defending his wife's reasoning. "I don't hear any other options on the table."

"I ain't know," Daryl mumbled, meeting his wife's gaze. "But I'll think of somethin'."

Daryl sat on the floor, his eyes focus on the wall as Beth slipped into her nightgown. It wasn't as if he was trying to advert his eyes from her body, but rather, his mind was deep in thought. He exhaled, knees pulled up to his chest as the possibilities of obtaining more food swirled in his mind. They could try to steal some, maybe from one of the more fortunate houses. But that just didn't feel right and the others would surely agree. They could always break into the supply locker, but it was usually heavily guarded and the risk of doing so was too great.

"Come to bed," he heard Beth say, turning to see her standing, nightgown seeming to fit a little better than it had in the past. "Tomorrow we can talk things over. It's late, we both need sleep."

Since the near miscarriage incident, Daryl had moved from the floor to share the bed with Beth. They both had their own sides, Beth occasionally stealing the covers from Daryl's in her sleep. But he didn't mind much, anything was better than the floor. He exhaled, standing up as he moved towards the mattress. Beth had already crawled under the sheets, her eyes following the archer as he did the same.

"You know what today is?" She murmured, exhaustion slipping into her tone.

"No," Daryl mumbled, his mind still intertwining and twisting endless possibilities on how to gather food. "What?"

"Our two month anniversary," there was humor in her tone, seeing as neither of them had willingly chose to marry the other in the first place. "I woulda got you a gift, but there aren't many options in Hurndon."

"Don't mattered," Daryl shrugged. "I ain't the kind of present person anyway."

"Well nevertheless," she yawned, her face pressed down into the pillow. "Happy anniversary."

"Yeah," he mumbled. "You too."

Daryl didn't sleep that night, lying awake for hours as Beth softly snored by his side. His stomach hurt, the need for his own nourishment making itself well known. But at least Beth had gotten something in her system. Even if it wasn't a lot, it was still better than nothing. The archer turned on his side, eyes focused at the small window at the top of the attic wall. It wasn't like he could see much, the sky was overcast that night, what little stars peeking through were masked with thick, dark clouds that made the small room seem even more ominous than usual.

He exhaled again, eyes falling down to his crossbow. In the darkness, it appeared as nothing more than a mass or an unidentifiable object. As he stared tiredly at it, a thought came to mind. A brilliant thought. He sat up slowly in bed, eyes still fixed on the bow that sat a few feet away. Maybe they couldn't steal food, but perhaps he could hunt some. In the days where Hurndon hadn't been an option, he'd easily survived off of squirrel and fish. Maybe, if he could just slip through the heavy doors of the Walker Control gate, he'd be able to head into what little woods there was and catch something. They were desperate now without food. Hunting seemed to be their only shot.

Quietly, he slipped from the bed, careful not to jostle Beth as he moved across the room to gather his crossbow. By now, his back had healed, the scars ugly and purple but not painful as he shifted the object over his shoulder. He moved silently through the room, slipping down the ladder and descending the long staircase. The house was quiet, all occupants asleep as he opened the front door and exited the safety of his home.

The night was cool as he made his way down the street, all of the houses dark as he ventured towards the eastern wall of the town. As he approached the gate, a sound from behind caught him off guard. Without thinking, he retrieved his bow, immediately turning to face his enemy. Rick Grimes held up his hands, his face illuminated in what little moonlight shone through the overcast sky.

"Easy," he muttered. "I mean no harm."

"Whaddya doin' out here," Daryl questioned, his bow still raised.

"Probably the same thang as you," the sheriff muttered, nodding towards the door. "House is runnin' low on food. I got kids to feed. Thought that maybe I could get out, try to get somethin' before mornin' came. I suppose I wasn't the only one with that idea."

Daryl lowered his crossbow, eyes still fixated on Rick as the man moved towards the door. He paced in front of his, surveying the heavy set of doors that thankfully, by some miracle, held no lock. The corners of the archer's mouth twisted into a soft frown as Rick turned around to face him again, the glint of a handgun evident in his pocket. Seemed like a stupid place to carry it. If it went off, not only would they be caught, but the man would be left without a leg or worse.

"Think we can open it," the other man questioned. "Get out before the walkers get in?"

"Worth a shot," Daryl muttered, moving to the other door that Rick did not stand in front of. "Not like we have much of an option."

Rick nodded, gripping the thick metal door handle, with a grunt, he and the archer tugged backwards creating a gap that was just big enough to slip through. Half expecting pairs of rotted, leprous hands to grab towards them, Daryl raised his bow in preparation. But to his surprise, nothing of the sort happened. He looked to Rick, nodding his head as the sheriff moved through, Daryl following in his tracks.

"They found me in these woods," Rick muttered quietly as he and Daryl moved through the trees. "Had set up camp. My son had injured his ankle when we were runnin' from some walkers. Baby was tired. We thought we could rest for a few hours when some of the guards approached us. There was no sense in fightin'. Thought that maybe we were done for. But they promised food and shelter. Didn't believe them at first. Had such happen before and it turned out to be a trap. But when I saw all of the people when we entered Hurndon, I thought maybe this could be a new start."

"Ain't much of anythin' in Hurndon," Daryl mumbled, eyes peeled for any sort of movement in the trees or ground. "There's catches when it comes to protection."

"I realized that," Rick replied, his voice suddenly turning cold. "Beginnin' to think that maybe it ain't such a good place to live."

Something scurried across a tree branch, Daryl raising his crossbow as he caught sight of the creature. It paused momentarily, giving the archer the shot he needed. With a quick release of the arrow, the creature fell to the ground, its life ended within a matter of seconds. Daryl stepped forward, lifting up his prize as he turned to the sheriff. The corners of his mouth twitched into a small smile as he held the object out.

"Squirrel," he mumbled, tossing the body to the other man. "Got good meat on them if you know how to skin."

They moved a little deeper into the woods, the walkers few as Daryl managed to successfully kill a few more of the animals. It was lucky, he realized, that such was available. Mostly they slept during this time but something obviously had brought them out. Whatever it was, the archer was grateful. It wasn't much food, but at least he and Rick could split them down the middle for their various households.

"So your wife is pregnant," Rick mumbled, holding a few of the squirrels by their tails. "She mentioned it briefly after I brought you in after you were...injured."

"Wasn't by our choice," the archer mumbled, taking out yet another animal. Raccoon this time. "Bout two months or so along. I dunno, she keeps track."

Rick nodded thoughtfully, swinging the creatures over his shoulder as they moved closer to the outskirts of Hurndon with what they had caught. The sun was beginning to rise over the horizon and if they didn't return soon, they would surely be caught. Leaving the gates of the town was greatly forbidden and hunting held and even worse penalty. With food being scarce, any and all that was gathered was immediately given to the Government, rationed poorly amongst the people.

"We should head back," Daryl muttered, his eyes scanning the area as a few walkers sauntered around in the field. "Ain't got much time before people start wakin' up."

"Sounds good," Rick agreed, eyeing the meat they had managed to snare. "We'll split it? Down the middle?"

"Suppose so," the archer agreed, despite him having done most of the work. "Maybe we can try again tomorrow night. Leave a little earlier so we can nab more."

"I'll meet you outside your place then," Rick muttered, gripping the hands of the gate as the pulled, sliding back through. "Maybe you can teach me a thing or two about usin' that crossbow of yours."

Daryl smirked, slightly amused by the man's humor. "You got your gun, I got my crossbow. Shiftin' weapons ain't somethin' I-"

"Hey," a voice called out. "You there! Stop where you are!"

Daryl and Rick immediately froze, their stomachs dropping as a guard approached. Daryl's eyes met his, the blood turning cold in his veins. Gordon. The man smirked, eyes shifting from Rick to the archer. The look of enjoyment fading into one of anger as he caught sight of the stash of meat handing from the sheriff's shoulder.

"Whatcha got there," he frowned, his mouth twisted into a look of displeasure. "Ain't been huntin' have you?"

Daryl gripped his crossbow, meeting the guard's eyes. He would surely turn them in, the penalty twice as great as they had not only ignored the curfew, but had also left Hurndon to hunt. Out of the corner of his eye, the archer noticed Rick frowning, his hand reaching towards his gun. Gordon seemed to notice too, his own hand immediately shooting down for his own before the shot rang out. Daryl watched in horror as Gordon's face morphed into one of surprise, the figure falling to his knees before ultimately crumbing to the ground. Point blank through the skull. Dead. Daryl's eyes flickered over to Rick's, the man breathing hard as he stared down at the lifeless body before them.

Daryl inhaled sharply, his eyes fixated on the sheriff.

"What've you done?"

**I hope you enjoyed this chapter and were pleasantly surprised by Gordon's death and the amount of Rick and Daryl interaction. I promise more Bethyl in the next chapter, I just needed for Rick and Daryl to grow more accustom to each other for reasons you'll learn later. And now that Gordon's dead, this poses a rather large problem. Feedback is greatly loved and appreciated! Makes the updates keep coming every day. I'd love to hear your thoughts! Anyway, I'm going to catch a few zzz's before I have to head to work. Until next time! -Jen**


	14. Chapter fourteen

**Before I begin, I just wanted to say before I forgot, I have literally NO idea what gender I should make Baby Dixon. So please, in your feedback messages, let me know if you'd like a boy or girl better (despite it not being born for a long while) I still would like to have an idea in mind! Thanks folks! And huge wave of gratitude to DarylDixon'sLover, Dixongurl, Sydmherman, lulu52, AnnMarie318, Random Fic Reader, Guest, jeanf, gwenstacy, MamaDCB, BurrSquee, crimsonrose0003, TWDobsession, ledanna, Nobody, TWDFan05, heatherrk, Crisphe, IMKittyBoo, An Amber Pen, NanamiYatsumaki, rckyfrk, Merry Beaker Fractale, soniabell, LegoMama0614, Dixonshipster, GabbyAbby, angelicedg, staceycoonan, 13eyondx, and BlackLabCoat for your lovely, always inspirational feedback messages! Now for the next chapter!  
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Chapter fourteen:

The shot still rang in Daryl Dixon's ears, thudding against his unprotected eardrums. The body lay crumpled before him, the empty shell of the man who had repeated caused harm to the archer. And yet, he could only find panic in his death. His heart pounded against his rib cage, a surge of adrenaline coursing through his veins as he looked at the sheriff in disbelief. Illegal hunting and ignoring curfew were one thing, but murder? Surely they would be hanged by the dawn of that morning if they were caught.

"What the fuck were you thinkin'?!" Daryl hissed,hands running through his hair in frantically. "Now what are we supposed to do?"

"Calm down," Rick murmured, seemingly calm as he gaze down at the body. "Let me think."

"Let you think?!" Daryl spat. "There's a fuckin' body of one of the guards in front of us! That you shot! And you're thinkin'? You didn't already have a goddamn plan in mind when you put a bullet through his skull?!"

"I didn't have the time to think," the sheriff replied, his tone growing stern. "You don't think he would've done the same thang? After what we did?"

"I don't know," the archer growled, his eyes fixed on the other man's. "He's dead so it ain't like we can ask him!"

Rick massaged his temples, exhaling heavily as he closed his eyes. Daryl glanced down the road, a few lights appearing in some of the windows. If they didn't move fast, they surely would be caught. His stomach twisted, nausea causing bile to rise up his throat. He wanted to get sick, throw up all over the goddamn place. Even before the outbreak he had done some dumb ass things, but this had to be the worse. His life was in peril. But not only his, Beth and the rest of his household.

"Lift his head up and see if there's an exit wound," Rick muttered, his voice breaking Daryl from his thoughts.

"Why?" Growled the archer. "Haven't we done enough shit as it is?"

"Check," Rick repeated, an authoritative tone slipping into his voice. "I know what I'm doin'."

"Clearly," Daryl muttered, sarcasm dripping in his tone as he lifted Gordon's head a few inches from the ground. His hair was greasy, but not with blood. Daryl frowned, his fingers digging around the guard's skull in search of any holes. There were none. Nor was there blood. Despite the injury, only a stream had exited the dead man's forehead, dripping carelessly on the ground before them. Nothing that couldn't easily be covered up however. "No," he replied. "Ain't no holes or nothin'."

"Good," Rick nodded, his head turning to look towards the door. "Less to hide. Look," he met the archer's gaze. "We have to get rid of the body. We can't afford to just leave it here. So here's what we'll do." he glanced towards the heavy set doors that they had just exited from. "The sound probably caught the attention of walkers. We move quickly, throw his body out to them. They'll clean it up nice, make it seem like he wandered out on his own accord and got attacked."

"That's all well and nice," he muttered. "But what about the fuckin' hole in his skull? And the fact he ain't turned?"

"We'll leave his gun," the sheriff mumbled. "Make it look like he offed himself when he realized it was the end. Ain't like there's forensics in this place. An' nobody here knows my gun or bullets from the rest," he paused. "Look, it ain't like we got much choice otherwise."

Daryl exhaled heavily, his eyes falling to the corpse once more. The walkers would have a field day with the fresh meat, especially if there was no chance of him turning. Finally, after a few moments, Daryl nodded in consent. They'd have to move fast, no telling how soon the guards would get to this spot. Rick gave a thin smile, moving to life Gordon up by the shoulders as the archer took the feet. Together they carried him back to the doors, the sound of growling outside more prevalent than it had been before.

"Don't let none of them in," Rick muttered, opening the door just wide enough so they could toss the body through."Wouldn't look so good if we were fightin' walkers."

"Like this looks any less terrible," the archer muttered, holding a walker back with the edge of his crossbow as Rick gave the body a few shoves, sending it out into the open.

Once the doors were closed, Daryl felt the slightest wave of relief as he turned to face Rick. The other man wiped his hands on his pant's let, meeting the archer's gaze. It had been a long night to say the least. But they had successfully gathered some food. Enough for maybe a few days. Which, hopefully, would end when the rations were given out. They all needed something to eat but in the archer's eyes, Beth's well being had climbed to the top of the list.

"I'll take three of the squirrels," Rick mumbled. "You can have the last one and the raccoon. Seems pretty divided to me."

"Fine," Daryl mumbled, retrieving the requested meat from over his shoulder. He was in no mindset to argue. "We ain't talk about how we got this. To anyone."

"Right," Rick nodded, taking the limp bodies from the archer. "Secret's safe with me."

When Daryl returned to the household, the lights were still off. None of the occupants had apparently heard the shot as Daryl moved into the kitchen, tossing the bodies in the small cooler. It held no ice, but at least it offered some protection until the morning. Exhaustion and stress crept over his body as he climbed the stairs and moved up the ladder. The attic was warm, much hotter than it was outside as he sauntered over to the bed and carefully climbed in.

"Where did you go?"

The voice was soft, tired, and Daryl squinted to see Beth gazing up at him with half lidded eyes. The corners of his mouth twitched into a small frown, he hadn't meant for her to wake up. Slowly she shifted towards him, her head resting on his chest as she let out a yawn. Beth was more easily willing to be in contact than he was, but he didn't mind her curling up to him as she did.

"No where," he mumbled. "Go back to sleep."

He heard her exhale heavily, her shoulders sinking as she drifted back off to sleep. Daryl found himself watching her for a few moments, eyes following her mouth as the breaths slowly slipped in and out. Despite his exhaustion, concern made it hard for him to willingly slip into unconsciousness. If Beth had known what had occurred, he couldn't imagine what her thoughts would be. She was so hopeful, so forgiving of people. If she found out that he and Rick had murdered someone, even though the man was purely evil, would she still forgive him?

The thoughts plagued his mind until the sun finally appeared through the window, Daryl blinking tiredly as Beth moved against him, waking up after her long night of sleep. She smiled wearily at him, inhaling softly as she moved to sit up. Her hair was in disarray, blonde locks tossed aside as if she had come in contact with a wind storm. Daryl forced a smile onto his own features, the falseness behind it almost evident as Beth met his gaze.

"Good mornin'," she murmured. "You sleep okay?"

"Fine," the archer replied, moving towards the edge of the bed. "Look, I'm gonna head downstairs, see what's cookin' for breakfast alright?"

Beth looked at him curious, obviously questioning his strange activity for the day. He mostly didn't invest his time in cooking. Hell, before he had come to Hurndon, some nights he had even subjected himself to eating the raw meat of the animals he caught. Didn't do much for his digestion, but when hunger set in, worse than any he had ever felt, the idea of waiting for food to cook seemed pointless.

Daryl ignored his wife's look as he clambered from the bed, moving towards the ladder in the same clothes he had worn the night before. Most of the residents had yet to wake up as he made his way into the kitchen. Morgan sat at the table, the same book he always seemed to be reading perched on the wood as his eyes remained on the pages as the archer approached.

"Saw what was in the cooler," the man mumbled, turning the page.

Daryl froze, his stomach dropping at the man's words. He turned, looking towards Morgan as his mind struggled to come up with some excuse as how he came across the meat. There weren't many animals that wandered into Hurndon, the walls keeping them out for the most part. The occasional goose would fly in, immediately getting shot and used by the Government for "authoritative purposes" but other than that, there were no such creatures as those he had caught.

"Look," Morgan muttered, not meeting Daryl's gaze. "I don't care how you got it and quite frankly, I don't wanna know. But I will say this," he finally lowered his book, looking to Daryl with a twinkle in his eyes. "Jenny and Donna will have one hell of a time makin' some good stew out of it."

A wave of relief swept over the archer at the man's approval. Not that he thought Morgan would've taken any actions over the meat, but he still wasn't sure how the man would have reacted. Already he had caused danger to the house when he had beaten the Governor-who still had yet to make a public appearance since-and the thought of being caught with illegal meat my trouble some people. But clearly not Morgan. If the archer didn't know any better, perhaps the man was even praising him for his efforts. No matter the legalness of it or not.

Only a few questions were raised when the rest of the household came into the kitchen to find the newly gathered food. But Morgan quickly answered any sort of inquires by insisting people should just be grateful that they had something other than stale oatmeal. Daryl ignored Beth's look as he helped Donna skin the animals, knowing that his wife knew the meat had come from him. When she questioned him later, he would make up something. The thoughts of Gordon's murder in the back of his mind as he sat down at the table, watching the stew simmer in the pot as the women spoke excitedly about having something more hearty to consume.

Heaping bowls were passed around, the meat smelling heavenly despite what creatures it had come from as Daryl made sure Beth's portion was much larger than the rest. She, after all, was still in her first trimester and anything that would help her excel into the second without the threat of miscarriage was most important. As Daryl began to spoon the food into his mouth, a knock at the door caused his heart to drop. He froze, eyes flickering to the occupants of the table as Morgan looked towards the entrance.

"Who do you suppose that could be at this hour?" Beth inquired, not seeming at all nervous as Daryl felt.

Surely the guards had found the body and had managed to trace it back to him and Rick. They would be arrested, a trial unheard of as the gallows would be set in place to hang them right then and there. His stomach churned, what little food that had entered into it threatening to be expelled as Morgan rose from his spot at the table and headed towards the door. Daryl waited, his eyes focused on the entrance in panic as the man opened the door.

"Bob?" Beth gasped, immediately rising from her seat.

There, in the doorway, stood a man. His hands trembled, dark skin seeming to pale as he looked from Morgan to Beth. Daryl had briefly seen the man before, not really knowing who he was. Beth had mentioned a Bob before. Some housemate of hers before they had gotten married. The man swallowed hard, looking hesitant before stepping over the threshold to pause a few feet away from the door.

"It's Sasha," he whispered, voice shaking as he met the girl's gaze. "She...she's gone into labor."

The fear in his voice told Daryl it wasn't good. He remembered meeting the woman, she seeming rather sickly as she visited their household. The concern that slipped into Beth's features confirmed his thoughts. Forgoing her own meal, she met the other man's gaze before her attention redirected to Daryl.

"We're coming," she exclaimed to the other man, eyes still locked on Daryl's. "Everythin' is gonna be just fine."

But even Daryl, who had known her for only a few months, could tell there was falseness in her tone.

**Sorry for the shorter chapter, I just really wanted to get something posted for you guys. I really like updating every day, despite it lately being written in the early hours of the morning due to insomnia. Those who question about them leaving town or other characters, do not worry. All will happen in due time. I have a lot planned for the next chapter, a lot of big Bethyl moments. Finally some talk about Baby Dixon. Some Rick power. I'm super excited! Feedback is greatly appreciated and loved. It keeps the updates coming daily! Also please, if you have a preference, answer the question that was mentioned in the top author's note. I am literally at a loss for what to do! Anyway, until next update! -Jen**


	15. Chapter fifteen

**I just wanted to apologize for this chapter being so short. I'm currently in a bad state but I wanted to get something out to you guys. Again, I am so sorry. So as usual, a wave of thanks to DarylDixon'sLover, StephMcG, UnwrittenLanguage, Anara, Guest, sammxhill, asseylum, Mione788, kevkye, lulu52, Guest, rebecca taylor, BurrSquee, angelicedg, NanamiYatsumaki, jbolinex, crimsonrose0003, sillymommy2010, An Amber Pen, MamaDCB, goshbirdie, heatherrk, jeanf, Sydmherman, DixonGreene010, Guest, TWDFan05, sportschick44, Merry Beaker Fractale, Nobody, BlackLabCoat, Lucy Lux, staceycoonan, Mhilano, ledanna, Wrinkled Fabric, ciprianoivashkov, and Nicki for your terrific, always motivating feedback messages left for the last chapter! Now for a new installment to this tale!  
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Chapter fifteen:

Daryl didn't know Sasha that well, and their first meeting had surely not gone accordingly. But seeing the sheer panic of Beth's features made him feel, despite having an unsaid conflict for the woman, just as worried. Without a word, he rose from his seat, Beth already nearing Bob by the time he managed to shove on his worn down shoes. The man looked absolutely petrified. Sweet trickling down his brow, face masked in undeniable concern. Why he had left his wife's side, the archer wasn't sure, but it was clear now how close his own wife was with these people.

"Is she at the clinic?" Beth asked as they hurried down the street.

"No," Bob shook his head, his voice clearly breaking at the thought. "No, she's progressing too far along for them to move her. We were...we were just having breakfast and without warning, her water broke. I don't even think she was having contractions until it happened. But Tara and I managed to get her up the steps and into the bedroom. Tara's watching Adam and I've already sent for a midwife." He inhaled sharply, catching his breath. "She wants you there. I told her you might be sleeping, but she really wanted you to be there."

Daryl wasn't aware much about pregnancy or how the process of labor tended to go. Despite his own child needing to be born in the next several months. And the mere idea of how serious Sasha's case seemed to be, whatever was going on with her, had him worrying even more for Beth's well being. Carrying babies now was a lot more dangerous than it had been before. Ignoring the fact that for centuries prior, women had given birth without the aid of proper medical care. But if something went wrong, as it sometimes did, there wasn't much that could be done.

"Everythin' will be alright, Bob," Beth tried to assure the distraught man. "She made it through with Adam and she'll make it through with this baby. I have faith."

Faith and hope weren't exactly medical life savers, but the archer realized that perhaps she was saying it more for her benefit than the other man's. Believing and humanity was something Beth strove for-as Daryl realized from their weeks together-and even now, she was counting on it to get her through this. As they entered the house, the unmistakable groan that echoed from the upstairs was enough to make Daryl's stomach twist.

"Hey Adam," Beth murmured, Daryl noticing the little boy cowering against a girl who looked close to Beth's age. "I've missed you."

"Mama," he whispered softly. "Sick."

"We're gonna go take care of her," the girl promised. "Everythin' is gonna be alright. Your mama will feel better in no time, okay?"

Bob was already bolting up the steps when Beth turned to the other girl. The look on her face held no reassurance as she patted the toddler's back in comfort. Daryl watched from behind, feeling his presence was unneeded here as not one person, besides Beth, in this household really knew or accepted him. Still, he knew that if anything, Beth would want him to stay. To be the support she needed while all others were preoccupied.

"How's she doin', Tara?" Beth asked quietly, seeming as if she were trying to word the question in a way that wouldn't upset the boy.

"Eight centimeters as of ten minutes ago," replied Tara, moving Adam onto her lap. "Midwife's here, had her apprentice summon the guards."

"The guards?" She inquired, voice masked with a slight anger Daryl had never heard her use before. "Why would they do that?"

"High risk," Tara replied, letting Adam slip from her arms as he toddled to Beth. "You know how it was with him."

"Up," the boy commanded, holding his arms towards the girl.

Beth relented, gingerly picking up the small boy as he buried his face in the crook of her neck. He gazed shyly at Daryl, hiding his face once again when the archer offered him a small, awkward smile. Despite his previous despair, Adam seemed to find what little joy there was in the atmosphere playing a sort of hide and go seek with the archer. Hiding his face whenever he caught Daryl's eyes on him. Child's play.

The archer tried to ignore the muffled moans that escaped from the second level of the home, watching Beth's face contort into worry as she continued to bounce Adam in her arms. Tara sat quietly, picking at a loose thread from her sleeve as she gazed down thoughtfully at the floor. Though the situations were clearly different, Daryl couldn't help but tie Beth to Sasha's agony. When she did deliver their child, would she too suffer so? Would they have to summon the guards in concern of the worse case scenario?

"Married?" He muttered, looking to Tara as if to break through the silence that filled the room.

The girl shook her head, "Lucky like that, I guess." She admitted, meeting Daryl's eyes with a weary smile. "Not sure how much longer though. I was surprised when they called Beth first, seeing as I'm twenty one and she's eighteen. But, guess things happen." She shrugged, locking on Beth's eyes with a sympathetic smile. "So rumor's true? Your pregnant?"

Beth nodded, adjusting her hold on Adam. "Not too far along. A couple of months, maybe less."

Tara's gaze flickered briefly over to Daryl before her stare returned to Beth. "Congratulations, I guess."

There came a knock at the door that caused the three adults to gaze at the entrance in silence. Before either could answer, the wooden shape was shoved open and two men, dressed in the uniforms Daryl knew so well, began to trudge towards the staircase, knocking mud off their boots as they went. The corners of Tara's mouth twisted into a frown and as she opened it to utter, what Daryl knew, would be something vulgar, Beth threw her a look that immediately caused her lips to press tightly shut.

"Don't," Beth mumbled, watching as the men headed up the steps. "You'll only make things worse."

Daryl's fingernails dug into the flesh of his palms as he watched the last of the guards disappear from sight. Despite what had occurred earlier that morning, this injustice seemed to overtake his worried thoughts about either he or Rick being found out. Sasha's groans could be heard echoing from the rafters, Adam burying his face once more in Beth's neck as silence filled the sitting room once more.

"I hate this place," Tara muttered, nudging a dust bunny with her foot. "Everything is shit."

"Tara," Beth warned, meeting her friend's gaze. "You don't want them to hear you."

"I don't care if they do or don't," the girl hissed. "They can't control us like this. We're people too! I don't understand why none of us just-"

Tara's words were immediately stopped when Bob sauntered down the staircase, his dark skin seemingly pale as he walked into the living room. All eyes followed the man as he took a seat, his hands trembling as he rested them in his lap. There was no joy nor excitement in his expression. His nose was running, mucus sliding down passed his lips as he wiped away at it with his sleeve, inhaling sharply.

"A girl," he whispered, voice barely audible. "It was a girl."

Past tense. Daryl felt his stomach drop as he watched tears slip down the other man's cheeks. At his side, he could hear Beth inhale, her own breath uneven as she moved towards the sorrowful figure, one arm clutching Adam as she rested her hand on his shoulder. The anger slipped from Tara's features, replaced by true grief as she too stood and went to Bob's side.

"They only let me see her for a second," he murmured. "Before they "took care of her"."

It was a sickening thought, whether the stillborn child had just been that or turned and how the guards had dealt with it. Daryl bit down on the inside of his cheek, watching Beth out of the corner of his eye. The thoughts of their own child and its outcome resurfacing in his mind as Bob rose from his seated position. He exhaled, breath shaking as he looked towards his son. Adam merely smiled, unaware of the trauma his parents both had gone through.

"She wants to see him," he murmured. "Sasha. The guards said no, but I don't care what they have to say. My wife has the right to see her son."

Daryl wasn't sure who he agreed with more, despite his hatred for anyone involved with the Government, if Sasha was worse off, perhaps it wouldn't be a good idea for her young son to see her in such a state. But it was her child, and he knew well enough that it wouldn't be fair to deprive her of such. Especially after a loss like that. The archer watched as Adam reached for his father, the man gently taking his son into his arms, holding him close to his chest.

"We're gonna go see Mama," Bob murmured, holding the boy close as they made their way to the staircase. "She misses you."

Beth's gaze turned to Daryl, her hand extending to take his own. He allowed her to do so, knowing that Bob's and Sasha's pain affected her more than he'd understand. As the man climbed the staircase, Tara exhaled softly, looking towards where the man and child had exited. Without saying a word, she too began her way towards where Sasha would most likely be resting in bed.

"We can go," Daryl mumbled. "If you wanna see her."

Beth inhaled slowly, "I dunno," she murmured. "I don't wanna intrude. Tara's gone up, but I'm not sure if we should. I don't know if Sasha wants all of the attention right now."

The archer nodded, taking a seat on the couch before Beth joined him. For a few minutes they sat there in silence, Beth's fingers intertwined with his own. As the clock on the wall ticked, Daryl slowly become more impatient as the anxiety seemed to fester greater in the room. He turned to Beth, wanting to suggest that they either go upstairs or maybe go home and wait for either Bob or Sasha to call for them, when shouts suddenly erupted from the second floor. His blood turned cold, stomach twisting as gun shots could be heard, crunching through the wooden structure of the house.

"Daryl," Beth cried out.

But the archer was already bounding up the staircase, completely weaponless as he headed towards the second floor. Unsure of what sight would be laying before him. But knowing deep down, it would be far from good.

**I hope you enjoyed this chapter despite the length and the writing wasn't too terrible. I promise the next part will be even better and I may even be able to work in a sex scene because I know how to make it fit in well (that is, if enough people want it). Anyway, feedback is greatly loved and appreciated! It keeps the updates coming and I could use a little something to brighten my mood. Until next update. -Jen**


	16. Chapter sixteen

**I really appreciate all of the support whether it be personal or for this story! Thanks so much, guys! It's been rough these past few days so your kind words really did brighten my day. Okay, as usual, a huge virtual hug of thanks to Mhilano, doofydizee, Dixongurl, Mione788, MissieMae, StephMcG, Guest, Atilia Dawn Black, rckyfrk, Peeca151, Spoonlicker, BurrSquee, Sydmherman, TWDFan05, sammxhill, TheGoldenElf, Countdraculoh, Crisphe, Merry Beaker Fractale, lulu52, goshbirdie, sparrow194, gwenstacey, benevolent01, vwheel, staceycoonan, Random Fic Reader, AnnMarie318, Anara, BlackLabCoat, Lucy Lux, DixonShipster, MamaDCB, crimsonrose0003, avasmom28681, heatherrk, jeanf, An Amber Pen, ciprianoivashkov, SweetSeductionCherryB, Nobody, Guest, angelicedg, Hearts1989, ledanna, Hearts1989, and kevkye for your incredibly motivating and kind reviews! Onto the next chapter!  
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Chapter sixteen:

Every organism, whether it be man or animal, experienced the fight of flight response at some point in their lives. Daryl's hand gripped the railing as he flew up the steps, the untreated wood cutting into the flesh of his palm as he hurried down the hallway and to the open room at the end of the second level. His mind was in a haze, thoughts muffled with the coursing adrenaline as he moved towards the entrance, completely unprepared for the scene that lay before him.

Sasha lay sprawled on the bed, her eyes still open with the glazed expression that every walker had. Several bullet holes dug into her forehead and temples, leaving sprays of bright crimson across the tan bed sheets that seemed to already be dampened with older blood from what Daryl could only assume was from the birth. In the corner of the room, wrapped in a stained towel that hide the contents inside, appeared to be what was once the baby, now shoved away into the dust and cobwebs. Both guards stood in front of the mattress, guns raised towards Bob who held a frightened Adam in his arms.

"It's just a scratch," the man protested, attempting to shield his son from the assailants. "He's fine, he's fine!"

Bob's voice rang with hysterics, the toddler crying heavily in his father's arms. Though it was hard to see from how the man cradled the boy, Daryl could just make out the claw marks that penetrated Adam's forearm as if Sasha had tried to grab him upon her turning. His stomach twisted, bile rising in his throat as the threat of vomiting grew more pronounced. The man had just lost his wife. His daughter. And now, after everything, his son's life was now held by a single thread.

"Everyone jus' calm down," Daryl tried to insist, holding his arms up defensively. "Give the boy a chance! Quarantine him or somethin', but for god sake's, the man's been through enough!"

Footsteps could be heard coming from the hallway and Daryl realized who it without even needing to turn around. He bit down on the inside of his cheek, Beth's astonished gasp echoing against his ear drums. He could feel her quivering beside him, the sound of her breathing uneven as she took in the sight before them. The guards did not relent however, their weapons still pointed as they demanded Bob give them the boy.

"Beth," Daryl hissed, desperate for her to leave. "Go home."

"What's goin' on," she inquired, voice raised an octave. "What are you plannin' to do?"

The archer had no choice but to wait as his wife put two and two together. Alarm and anger immediately slipped into Beth's usually friendly gaze as she looked directly at the armed guards, Adam's cries ringing loudly throughout the room. Without thinking, Daryl grabbed Beth roughly by the arm, tugging her towards the door as she protested loudly. As he took a better hold of her, he ignored the sounds of Bob's pleas as he nearly carried the girl down the steps, not meeting Tara's gaze as they went towards the front door. But even in his efforts, Daryl could not get them both out in time before the deadly shot rang throughout the household, silence immediately sweeping in its trail.

Daryl felt Beth's resistance give as she sank against him, her complexion pale as they exited the house. The archer panted, his heart beating rapidly as he looked down at the girl, her expression frighteningly still. Beth was trembling and yet, no tears slipped down her cheeks. Shock. Daryl immediately turned her to face him, his hands gripping her forearms as if to support her in fear of her falling.

"Hey," he said, forcing Beth's gaze on his. "C'mon, Beth, don't do this now."

"Adam," she whispered. "They-"

"I know," he murmured, "I know, but you gotta be strong, alright? You gotta not freak out on me now. It ain't..." he paused. "It ain't good for the baby."

He could hear Beth swallow thickly, her gaze redirecting to the house they had been in moments before. He too could not help but look, the building seeming so peaceful from the outside, the horrors that just occurred hidden within. Adam was just a boy. A toddler. And the Government, without a thought, had ruthlessly taken his life in fear of infection. It appeared there was only one this Hurndon cared about more than repopulation. Avoiding the outbreak at all costs.

"Take me home," Beth muttered, the lack of tone in her voice pulling Daryl from his thoughts. "I wanna go home."

Most of her weight was pressed against his side as they walked down the otherwise crowded street, the citizens completely unaware of what had just happened. When they approached their own household, Beth remained silent as they slipped inside. Daryl nodded in greeting to Jenny who eyed them curiously, most likely noting the expression on Beth's face as they climbed the staircase and ascended the rickety ladder. The attic was dark, surprisingly cool as Beth left Daryl's side and made her way over to the mattress, slowly taking a seat.

"Beth," Daryl said, unable to suppress the concern that slipped into his tone. "Say somethin'."

As the archer moved closer, he could just make out the few tears that had begun to surface in the girl's eyes. Beth inhaled sharply, lips pressed firmly together as she looked away from Daryl. The archer took a seat beside her, awkwardly resting his hand on her knee. Adam and Sasha, they had been her family. Even if not by blood, the word had changed greatly since the outbreak. Those you knew, those who cared for you, had become your people.

"He was just a baby," she whispered, wiping away at her cheeks. "He didn't do anythin' wrong."

"I know," Daryl assured her. "He ain't deserve what they did to him. I'm...sorry that it happened."

"I knew him since he was a little baby," Beth's mouth curved into a sorrowful smile. "Used to watch him when Bob was helpin' Sasha out. Sang to him a lot. Always seemed to like my singin'."

"We'll make sure he's buried," the archer promised. "He and Sasha both. I ain't gonna let them incinerate their bodies. Not like the others."

"It's too late," she muttered. "It's probably already been done."

A moment of silence fell between them, Daryl's eyes not leaving Beth as she gazed at the floor beneath them. Her legs swung weakly, a hand pressed to her stomach. It was the first time he'd ever seen her do that. The baby, of course, too small for her to feel anything at this point and yet, she still held her hand in comfort against the slightest swell of her abdomen.

"I want you to promise me somethin'," she murmured, finally letting her gaze meet his. "When this baby comes, if it comes down to it, you choose it over me."

"Beth," Daryl warned. "It ain't gonna happen like that."

"Promise," she insisted. "Promise me you'll choose it over me."

Daryl bit down on the inside of his cheek, the faintest taste of blood washing over his tongue. There was no love yet, but he cared deeply for Beth in what little time they had known each other. Daryl wasn't quite sure what love felt like, but he wasn't about to lose the only person who seemed to stand him besides Carol. Inhaling, he ground his teeth together, unable to meet her awaiting stare.

"I ain't promisin' nothin'," he muttered. "Cause I ain't about to let none of that happen."

It was then that something unexpected happened. Without warning, Beth's mouth pressed against his, her lips warm as she moved them against his. Daryl stiffened, stunned by the kiss as Beth continued to remain against him. Slowly, he relented, returning the action as she moved to straddle herself on his lap. Whatever the reason for the sudden onset intimacy, Daryl assumed that at least part of it had been in the need to distract herself from the anguish she had recently suffered. That they both had unfortunately witnessed.

Her fingers began to knot the fabric of his shirt as she held herself close, Daryl's arms winding their way around her back. Gingerly, he lifted her top off, letting it fall to the side as he aided her in the removal of his own. Sex was an act of passion. Of love. This was in remorse. Beth let out a shuttering breath as Daryl allowed his hand to slip past her waistline, running down the front of her womanhood before his fingers parted the supple lips. He hesitated, eyes briefly meeting hers as she nodded.

"It's okay," she assured him. "It's okay."

Gently, he allowed one finger to enter her, the heat and moisture slick as he pumped in and out of her. He could feel her walls tighten, Beth's forehead pressed against his shoulder as he continued to thrust his index finger. She murmured softly, his name escaping from her mouth as a second finger entered her. It felt a little awkward, pleasuring Beth in this way. But he knew she needed the distraction and he needed the reassurance that she would be okay.

"I need you," she breathed, her body trembling as his finger brushed against her sensitive spot. "Daryl..."

"You sure," he questioned, feeling the heat rise to his cheeks that he was asking in root of the moment. "The baby-"

"Will be fine," she assured him, her mouth curving into a soft, but still evidently sorrowful smile. "They said it's just like bein' rocked to sleep."

Daryl nodded, his fingers exited Beth as she moved to lie more comfortably on the bed, her pants abandoned off to the side as he removed his own. His erection throbbed, the feeling uncomfortable as he moved in between her legs. Slowly, he entered her, the sound of her inhale arousing as he began to gently thrust in and out of her, uncertain if he should go with much strength. Even in the heat of the moment, the baby still made itself known in his mind. The concern of hurting it greater than anything else.

"Daryl." The sound of Beth's voice broke through his train of thought, her hand lightly touching his cheek. "You won't hurt either of us."

He inhaled, fingers digging into the fabric of the comforter as he began to move faster, hips buckling as Beth's back arched in compliance. In death, there was only slight comfort, the need to find it in someone else rather than alone. And though he and Beth had known each other for only some weeks, their desire to seek such relief in one another was greater than any other feeling. Her name left his mouth, tone husky as her walls began to tighten around him, bringing him faster to the peak of climaxing.

With one more thrust, he felt himself release, body trembling as he shot deep within her, feeling her walls tighten and give as she too followed him. He was panting now, still hovering over her as sweat glistened on his brow, Beth peering up at him with the same look of exhaustion and relief he felt. His eyes looked her over, almost as if he feared he had caused some unmentioned harm to her body. But when Beth's fingers lingered on his chest, he realized that she was okay. That everything was okay in this moment.

"Thank you," she murmured as he moved beside her. "I...I needed to forget for just a little while."

It had been the first time they'd had sex voluntarily, not by the force of the Government. It had felt good. Liberating. And though it might not of held the same passion as those who were deeply in love, there was still meaning behind it. He sank beside her, feeling her as she curled closer to him. For a few moments, they lay there in silence, the archer listening to the rhythmic sound of her breathing.

"You gonna be alright?" He asked gently, his eyes locking on her own. "I won't leave you alone if you ain't want me to."

"I don't wanna be alone," she admitted. "Stay."

Together they lie there, finding slight comfort in each other's company. Daryl's eyes traveled down to the slight swell of her belly, to where their child grew within her. It was small, too small to really be anything at this point. But it was their's, Even if not by their choice, he was going to become a father and she a mother. And the fears involved in that began to fester in his mind. The memory of today. The dead baby. Sasha. The toddler's fate. All intertwining in his head.

"Daryl," he heard her whisper. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah," Daryl murmured, though the hesitance in his voice was less than reassuring. "M' fine."

"Later," she whispered, her tone sounding faint. "We should check on Bob. I wanna make sure he..." her voice trailed off. "I wanna make sure he's holdin' up."

"I'll go," Daryl promised. "In a few hours, I'll go. I want you to rest. You ain't need to see if somethin's amiss."

He expected Beth to argue, to demand that she be brought along. But instead, she merely nodded, her face moving to press against his chest. Awkwardly he rested his hand on the small of her back, thumb rubbing circles as they continued to lie there in silence. It had been a perilous day, Daryl nearly forgetting about the body of the guard he and Rick had killed. The fears of that didn't seem important now. Only the sanity of Beth.

As the minutes ticked away, the couple remaining in bed, it was Beth who finally broke the silence. She swallowed, her voice sounding thick as she spoke up for the first time in the past hour or so.

"Daryl?" she inquired, her voice soft.

"Yeah?" He answered, uncertain of what she wanted to say. "What is it?"

"I..."

There was hesitation in her voice, almost as if she feared that something terrible would happen if she uttered the words.

"I wanna leave Hurndon."

**I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and the sex scene that went with it. Now we are starting to enter the planning stages of leaving Hurndon. Which, I will say, is when shit will really hit the fan. Feedback is greatly loved and appreciated. Keeps the updates coming, let's me know what you like and don't. I think I finally decided what gender I want the baby, but please let me know your thoughts still if you haven't already (or if you feel very strongly about a certain gender). Happy belated Thanksgiving! Until next update! -Jen**


	17. Chapter seventeen

**You guys are truly the best readers any writer could ask for! Okay, before I begin to blubber, here come the giant tidal waves of thank yous to DarylDixon'sLover, Dixongurl, Mione788, rckyfrk, sammxhill, sportschick44, lulu52, vvheel, NanamiYatsumaki, An Amber Pen, Saffia, heatherrk, sillymommy2010, cherrywineBA, Atilia Dawn Black, Spoonlicker, TWDFan05, ledanna, Guest, jeanf, TWDobession, bluebook1496, Crisphe, ciprianoivashkov, breathingforbethyl, StephMcG, Random Fic Reader, Merry Beaker Fracatle, staceycoonan, BurrSquee, gwenstacy, GabbyAbby, angelicedg, Lucy Lux, TWD, DixonShipster, Sydmherman, orayofsunshine, MamaDCB, Serialkillingyou, Hearts1989, SweetSeductionCherryB, crimsonrose0003, kevkye, Anara, missy7293, Lula-Belle84, and BlackLabCoat for your incredible, always motivating feedback messages! Now onto the next chapter!**

Chapter seventeen:

"What do you mean leave Hurndon?"

The firm look on Morgan's face told Daryl the man already disagreed. Nevertheless he stood his ground, arms folded over his chest as the many eyes of the household watched him. By now, all children had been sent to bed. Beth deciding to join them as pregnancy had its way of tiring her out. Now it was only Daryl against the four other adults that occupied the dining room. The odds were not great, but neither were they here in Hurndon. That much they couldn't argue against him.

"We're safe here," Donna put in, looking to her husband worriedly. "Things might not always be the greatest. But we have shelter. Food."

"Food ain't been that plentiful if you haven't noticed," Daryl cut in. "And shelter's gettin' tight. Next thing you know, they'll be throwin' people out who ain't cut out for the Common Law."

Jenny's face paled and immediately Daryl regretted what he had said. He hadn't meant to bring the woman's infertility into this, but the point was still valid. Carol. Jenny. All were unable to adhere to the Common Law in the sense of children. What was stopping Hurndon from exiling them in order to make room for the growing families of the town? Hurndon could easily change its laws and there would be nothing the citizens could do about it.

"What of Beth?" Allen inquired, looking from Daryl to the others. "She's pregnant, isn't she? Don't you think it's risky making a pregnant woman survive in the sort of environment that's outside of town? Things aren't always so great, I'll agree to that, but it isn't so great making Beth travel in her condition. And what about the baby? Do you plan to deliver it in a ditch on the side of the road?"

"We'll find a place," countered the archer, his annoyance growing more fervent. "But it ain't safe here. Don't you fuckin' remember what happened to Morgan? To me?"

The group fell silent, all eyes either glancing at one another or down at the floor. The archer stood still, arms still folded. He knew Beth wanted to leave, that much was clear. But she wouldn't well up and pack on out unless their friends also agreed to join them. Groups were better than pairs, especially with the girl's current condition. And as much as Daryl was annoyed at everyone's hesitation, he too didn't want to abandon those he had grown to somewhat care about.

"Look," he sighed, waving his hand. "Jus' maul it over in your minds. Think about it. We don't got to make any decisions at this very moment. We got plannin' to do when we go through with this."

"_If,_" Morgan emphasized. "If we agree to this."

The archer inhaled deeply, trying to remain in control of his irritation. Despite everything they had all gone through, the party still seemed hesitant to leave the town. Shaking his head, he glanced towards the door, the sky visibly dark from where it could be seen through the windows. He had promised Beth he'd go and check on Bob, not wanting to bring her along in case the man had resorted to something stupid. He exhaled, nodding his head in relent.

"Jus' think about it," he repeated. "I gotta go. But this ain't the end of this discussion and whether you guys agree to it or not, eventually I'm out of this shit hole and I'm takin' Beth with me."

It wasn't the safest topic to discuss as it was. If they were to be overheard, the Government would surely put a stop in any sort of plan they might have conceived. And yet, as the archer exited into the twilight, he didn't much give a damn. The air was warm as he made his way down the street, a few lingering workers who had just ended their shifts nodding to him in greeting as he went. Curfew would occur in the next hour, but as to whether he'd be home in time to obey it, that much wasn't clear.

As he approached Bob's house, he couldn't help but notice how few lights were on. His mouth twisted into a frown, a feeling of hesitation coming over him as he knocked on the door. At first, there as no answer. No sound of footsteps as he stood, arms crossed in front of the entrance. But then, after a few moments, the faintest noise of someone making their way towards the closed door met his eardrums. When it opened, he was met by a stranger, the man's face molded into a look of discomfort and his hair the oddest shape that Daryl had seen in a long time.

"Hello," he droned, tone strange as if between robotic and southern. "Can I help you?"

"Name's Daryl," the archer replied. "Came to check up on Bob."

"Eugene," the man greeted, nodding his head. "You his friend?"

"Could call it that," Daryl muttered, attempting to glance past the odd figure. "How's he doin'?"

"Lost his wife and kids," Eugene mumbled. "Ain't got any of my own but I can figure it ain't the best feelin'."

Clearly this man wasn't much for words, or understanding for that matter. Daryl exhaled, moving past the figure as he sidestepped, glancing around the darken living room. He noticed Tara sitting on the couch, still located in the spot where he'd last seen her. When she glanced up, he noticed that her cheeks glistened, her mouth twisted into a sorrowful expression. He paused, wondering if he should say something to her but decided against it. She needed time to mourn, as Beth did, and nothing he could utter would offer her much comfort now.

"Upstairs."

The archer paused, turning his head to see Tara watching him. She rubbed at her face, inhaling wetly. At first, he wondered if he had heard her right, but when she cleared her throat, voice sounding thick as she spoke, Daryl stopped in his tracks, all attention on the girl.

"Bob's in his bedroom," she muttered, wiping away underneath her nose. "Beth send you to check on him?" He nodded, Tara's lips curving into a sorrowful smile. "Good luck getting in, he's locked us all out."

Daryl made his way up the long staircase, noticing the crumbs of dirt that the guards had left from their shoes previously. As he walked down the stretch of hallway, it became noticeably darker. All candles had been put out, the archer nearly tripping over the leg of a side table as he approached the bedroom door. He listened, absolute silence meeting his ears as he raised his fist to knock. There came no answer.

"Bob," he called out. "It's Daryl. Beth's husband? Listen, she and I...we wanted to check up on you."

Still no reply, the corners of the archer's mouth twisting into a frown at the unresponsiveness. For all they knew, the man had taken his life inside. But then again, the sounds of a walker would have been clearly audible in that case. Daryl was nearly positive the man owned no gun nor any sort of weapon that could puncture a skull for that matter.

"Listen," he exhaled. "I ain't leavin' until this door opens, even if I gotta do it myself."

His reply was met by silence, Daryl waiting impatiently for Bob to move and open the door. After a few moments passed, the archer frowned, deciding that perhaps he should break open the entrance in case something was amiss. As he readied to thrust himself against the wooden frame, there came the softest of clicks. Daryl paused, eyeing the doorknob as it rotated, finally revealing a sliver of a gateway into the other room.

Hesitantly, the archer slid inside, his eyes adjusting to the darkness as he took notice of a figure sitting on a mattress. His head was hung low, hands folded in his lap. He didn't make any sounds, just merely sat there quietly as Daryl slowly approached him. He could hear Bob swallow hard, the sound thick and full of emotion as Daryl stood awkwardly in front of him, uncertain as to what he should say.

"Beth wanted me to check on you," he finally decided. "She's worried about you, you know."

"...She shouldn't be," came the hoarse whisper. "She has her own life to be concerned about."

Daryl shifted uncomfortably, eyeing Bob's anguished figure in question. He was the last person anyone should go to for solace, but he knew he needed to do this for Beth. She was exhausted, saddened, and the last thing she needed was to be out and about. He inhaled, folding his arms over his chest as he glanced about the room. It had been cleaned thoroughly, all signs of blood and anything else invisible against the darkness.

"I'm sorry about your wife and kids," Daryl continued, Bob visibly flinching at the mention. "Lost my brother before comin' here. I know it ain't the same but...we've all lost someone close to us. You ain't alone, even if it feels like it. People care for you. Beth. Tara. ...Eugene. You got people downstairs worryin' bout you. An' I know you and me, we ain't close, but you're Beth's friend and that makes you mine. An' I'm here for her as well as myself cause everyone matters. Least, that's what she says."

Bob chuckled humorously, his eyes still fixated on the floor before them.

"Sounds like her," he murmured. "Beth was always the sweet one. Always willing to help whenever. What happens here, she doesn't deserve this life. But I'm sure I don't have to tell you that." He paused, inhaling heavily. "They could've given Adam a chance but they didn't. They just went and..." his voice trailed off, Daryl hearing the sound of fabric crunching as Bob's fingers dug deep into its cotton. "You gotta get here out of here, Daryl. Beth. They aren't gonna stop. If somethin' goes wrong, they won't hesitate." He finally lifted his gaze, meeting the archer with bloodshot eyes. "You gotta get out."

"I know," Daryl agreed. "But the others-"

"It doesn't matter," Bob said, his tone becoming dark. "If it comes down to it, you both got to get out of here. A storm's coming...it's been coming for awhile and it's just over the horizon. Something's going to happen, Daryl. Something big and when it does, you gotta take her and run. Run like hell."

Daryl wasn't too entirely sure what Bob was referring to. The man had, after all, just lost his entire family. If his sanity was still intact, the archer would be surprised. Nevertheless he nodded in promise, the man's laughter making him feel somewhat uncomfortable as he cleared his throat.

"I better go," he said quietly. "Beth's probably awake and waitin' for me. Are you gonna be-"

"I'm not gonna off myself if that's what you're implying," Bob replied softly. "I won't give them that satisfaction."

The archer nodded, looking towards the door. "I'll check up on you again tomorrow," he mumbled. "Try to get some rest."

Daryl exited the room, Bob not offering another word as the archer made his way back down the steps, nodding to Tara and Eugene as he went. The sky was completely starless as he made his way down the cobblestone path, a chill now picking up in the air. The man's words replayed in his mind as he passed the several rows of houses, all lights seeming to be off within as he traveled down towards where his own house was. As he approached the entrance, he knew at once that something was not right.

His intuition was proven to be correct when he entered inside, at once being greeted by the appearance of two guards that stood in front of every resident of the household, Beth included. Their faces were drawn into a serious expression, eyes fixed on Daryl as he moved to Beth's side. He could hear her breathing as he looked towards the men, stomach twisting in uncertainty. Had they overheard his earlier conversation?

"What's goin' on?" He inquired, mouth twisted into a frown as he looked at the two strangers. "Everythin' alright here?"

"We are visiting each household," one of the men explained. "One of our guards has vanished and we're just trying to figure out if anyone knows anything. You'd be alright with an interrogation, yes?"

Daryl's stomach dropped, finally recalling the events that had taken place between him and Rick. The gunshot to Gordon's head. He glanced at Beth out of the corner of his eye, her own attention still drawn towards the guards. If they found out what had happened, surely the whole household would pay dearly. He inhaled, trying to hide his discomfort as he nodded firmly.

"Of course."

"Shall we go to the dining room then?" Morgan suggested. "Jenny, why don't you get these men something to drink?"

"That won't be necessary," one of the men replied. "We have important business to discuss."

Morgan nodded, his fingers wriggling unnervingly as he nodded to the others. Slowly, they began to file into the other room, Daryl remaining silent as they entered. He needed to pull this off. If not for his own sake, then for Beth's. Exhaling, he took a seat beside her, ignoring her stare as the guards joined them, the dining room door closing behind them as they awaited the questioning to begin.

**I hope you enjoyed this chapter! More Bethyl planned for the next! Alright, so I finally decided on a gender, but you will have to wait until the baby is born. However, I have four names (two that I can't decide upon) and as such, I would like your opinion. Now there are two for each gender since I really don't want to give away if it's a boy or girl (no it's not twins). So here are your choices: Todd, Wyatt, Rosie, or Nora. I was trying to think of southern names that Bethyl might choose. (Poll for names will also be up on my profile page) So let me know your thoughts or if you have another in mind. Feedback is greatly loved and appreciated! Let's me know your thoughts and motivates me! Until next chapter! -Jen**


	18. Chapter eighteen

**Short chapter as I wasn't planning to update today. First, I WILL keep writing this story in honor of Beth Greene. Secondly, in honor of Beth, I have started a pregnancy journal of Beth's based on this story called "To the Moon and Back" (it can be located under "My Stories" on the profile page)**.** ALSO apparently Gordon's real name is "Gorman". Oh well, beause the TWD writers are poos, Gorman is now called Gordon. So HA HA, that's what you get for doing what you did last night. Now because I refuse to dwell on sadness, here come the storms of gratitude and floods of thanks to Dixongurl, DarylDixon'sLover, DixonGreene010, Nobody, Atilia D Black, TWDFan05, MamaDCB, sammxhill, rckyfrk, BurrSquee, ledanna, bluebook1496, heatherrk, Dixon lover, pisquenta, angelicedg, TWD, crimsonrose0003, jeanf, StephMcG, Countdraculoh, Sydmherman, BlackLabCoat, rye7413, Maykits, DixonShipster, boothandbones4ever, LadyRobbStark, gwenstacy, Peeca151, SweetSeductionCherryB, Guest, and ciprianoivashkov for your awesome, always motivating and inspiring reviews! Now for the next chapter!**

Chapter eighteen:

The table was tight as it was, seeing as the building housed six adults and three children. Now with the addition of two guards, who seemed more intent on taking up more space than the kids would, Daryl was left squashed against Beth, the heat from her nightgown hot against his bare skin. She looked exhausted, her eyes fixated on the two guards as they made themselves comfortable. But there was no worry in her expression and why should there be? She hadn't known what he and Rick had done.

"Now," one of the men began, his name tag reading O'Donnell. "There are nine residents in this household?"

"Three couples and three children," Morgan agreed. "Do those numbers matter?"

"We'll be asking the questions here," another guard, Alvarado, replied. "Can you account for all of your people for the previous night?"

Morgan glanced around at the others, clearly the speaker for the group. Daryl inhaled slowly, his fingers digging underneath the table into the wood of his chair. He knew very well that the other man was thinking the same thing he was. The raccoon and squirrel meat the archer had "mysteriously" gathered the night before last. But whether he'd be truthful or lie to the guards, that much Daryl was unsure. Lying could put them all at risk if they were caught. Being truthful could easily become his death sentence.

"Yes," Morgan confirmed. "No one was out the other night. We tend to obey the laws in this household."

The archer's tense position relaxed. Whether Morgan realized it or not, his covering for Daryl might have just saved the bowman's life. Daryl glanced over to Beth, noting as her hand slipped underneath the table and grasped his own. He intertwined their fingers, eyes still fixated on the guards as the men scribbled notes down on a piece of paper. The corners of his mouth twitched into a frown as O'Donnell raised his eyes to meet Morgan's, a look of displeasure on his features.

"If we find out any of you are lying," he said slowly. "The penalty will be great. We were cops before all of this shit happened."

"We are well aware," Morgan replied coolly. "And we have nothing to hide."

"Then you wouldn't object to having us look around?" Alvarado questioned.

"Not at all," Morgan answered, his voice remaining calm. "Please, feel free."

As the guards rose, Morgan began to rise with them. However, he immediately stopped when one of the men threw him a dirty look. Daryl could feel his heart pounding against his chest as the men exited the room, the sounds of them riffling through everyone's belonging echoing through the empty halls of the house. If they came across what little meat was left from the animals, surely they'd all be punished solely on that charge.

"Daryl," Beth murmured, looking to her husband. "I can't feel my fingers."

"Sorry," the archer muttered, loosening his grip. "Gotta lot on my mind."

The Walker Control had most certainly gone out yesterday, despite the archer having missed his shift. If they hadn't come across the body of Gordon, perhaps something might have dragged it off? Walkers? A wild animal? His head spun, stomach twisting at the possibilities as the guards finally returned from their destruction. It wasn't as if they were looking for something in particular. Daryl just assumed it was their way of frightening the residents and, as it would seem, creating a mess just because they had the ability to.

"We'll be checking periodically on each household," O'Donnell said, wiping his hands on Jenny's favored dish rag. "In case new information pops up. If you hear anything, you go to the Government immediately. Is that understood? Withholding information is just as serious as the crime itself."

"We understand," Morgan nodded, watching as the guards trumped towards the door before exiting.

A moment of silence fell between the residents as all eyes fell upon one another. Daryl could feel Beth's thumb gingerly caressing his own as they sat their quietly. Finally, it was Allen who broke the silence, the man inhaling deeply as he looked from his wife back to the other residents. It was clear that they were all very much rattled from the unannounced visit. Daryl lucky enough that he hadn't gotten into any trouble by simply being out past curfew. Or questioned about it for that matter.

"We should survey the damage," Allen said, his wife's hand resting on his shoulder. "See what they tore up."

"They had no right," Jenny mumbled, rising as her husband did. "Simply no right. We're lucky they didn't wake the children. Hopefully nothing is in too much disarray."

"We should check too," Beth murmured, meeting Daryl's gaze. "See what they did upstairs in the attic?"

Daryl nodded in agreement, standing up as Beth followed. With a few mutters of goodnight, the couples went their separate ways, Daryl walking behind Beth as they climbed up the long staircase and ascended the ladder.

The latch had already been flung open as they climbed into their room, the sight before them rather horrific. Bed sheets lay strewn upon the floor, their single lamp left turned over, shade torn. Daryl's fingernails dug into his palms as he and Beth began to survey the extent of the damage. What clothes they had, had too bee tossed aside, wrinkled and cast away from their original location.

"Bastards," Daryl growled, bending over to retrieve a pillow by his foot. "Jus' fuckin' things up for fun."

"It could've been worse," Beth murmured, moving to his side as she gathered their blankets. "At least nothin's too broken."

Her weary smile caused some of the anger that had bubbled up in the archer's chest to melt away. Despite everything that had just happened, Beth still seemed to put on a cheerful exterior. The loss of her friend. The destruction of their room. She was strong, and not in a naive way. A sort of feeling he craved himself. That he found favorable in her.

"Jenny mentioned that someone came across some yarn in the rations in the town square," Beth murmured, folding the sheets carefully. "I was thinkin' maybe they'd be willin' to trade somethin' for a little bit. Maybe I could knit somethin' for the baby."

Daryl watched her as she crossed the room, gingerly placing the sheets back on the lopsided mattress. In what little light there was, he could barely make on the slight slope of her stomach underneath the frail fabric of her nightgown as she moved about the room.

"Mama taught me how to knit," she explained, hands smoothing the creases on her outfit. "When I was little. Not much good at it, but practice makes perfect, right?" The corners of her mouth curved into a gentle smile, a hand pressed to the small bump of her abdomen. "I wanna make somethin' special for him."

"Him?" Daryl inquired, suddenly confused by the use of the pronoun. "We ain't know it's a boy."

"Could be," Beth shrugged, still smiling down at her stomach. "Or a girl. But I don't like calling the baby "it" all the time. He needs a nickname."

"The baby," Daryl suggested, sarcasm slipping into his tone as Beth gave him the slightest of looks. "What? It ain't like it's not practical."

Beth exhaled, a hand still pressed to the apex of her small stomach. She shook her head, offering Daryl yet another small smile as she moved across the room towards him. He looked down as she extended her hand, hesitating before taking it. Quietly she led him to their bed, releasing his hand momentarily as she fixed the mattress and sheets.

"I could do that," he muttered, watching as she adjusted everything. "Don't think you should be…exertin' yourself."

Beth smirked as she set the pillows in their proper locations. "This is hardly exertin'," she stated, eyeing him playfully. "Certainly not like earlier."

Daryl could feel the heat rise to his ears as Beth smiled, exhaling as she finalized her adjustments. She eased down onto the mattress, motioning for Daryl to join her. Slowly he sunk down, the fabric feeling relaxing as he moved closer to Beth. He inhaled as she rested her head on his chest, her arm loosely hung over his midsection as her breathing slowed.

"You're a good man, Daryl Dixon," she murmured, exhaustion tugging at her consciousness. "Don't let anyone tell you otherwise."

As she lie beside him, slowly drifting away into a realm he could not reach, the words replayed in his mind, reminding him of the same statement Carol had uttered. Good man. He was a good man. He exhaled, arms behind his head as he stared up at the ceiling. Darkness crawled across the room, creating shadows that danced upon the wooden boards. A good man, if only he could find it in himself to believe it.

**Really short, sort of a filler chapter, but I wanted to post something in honor of Beth today. Sorry for it being so short, I've really been struggling mentally this week. But I appreciate you bearing with me and giving me support. It means more than any of you could understand right now. Anywho, feedback is greatly loved and appreciated. I promise more excitement next chapter and for it to be three times as long as this one. So I plan to update this fic every other day and in between updates, Beth's pregnancy journal will be updated. Just to give you an idea. So bethyl every day, seven days a week if all goes well. Anywho, hope you enjoyed. Until next time! -Jen**


	19. Chapter nineteen

**Again, I wasn't planning to update today but I'm sad, Beth's death makes me sadder but writing makes me happy and making you guys happy makes me even happier! So everyone wins! Alrighty, so per usual, a multitude of gratitude to DarylDixon'sLover, DixonGurl, angelicedg, StephMcG, TWD, Nat, rckyfrk, Spoonlicker, Guest, Sydmherman, Yoshikuni, An Amber Pen, crimsonrose0003, Maykits, dee22dee, lulu52, benevolent01, gwenstacy, Guest, NanamiYatsumaki, Beth Dixon, Malzateb, Hoperising13, jeanf, asseylum, Merry Beaker Fractale, lola0812, Jackiemgomez, MamaDCB, Tania Ibarbia, iwona-czapaj, Guest, TWDFan05, BlackLabCoat, funeralhome, bluebook1496, bonesandboothforever, heatherrk, TWDfan0001, sergensaf, kristelalugo, vivalachair, staceycoonan, ledanna, and pisquenta for your wonderful, always inspiring feedback messages! Onward to the next chapter!  
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Chapter nineteen:

"Get up."

It was the harsh, unrecognizable tone that tugged Daryl Dixon from his peaceful slumber. He blinked, bleary eyed as Beth shifted against his body, obviously disturbed by the unannounced guest that had come into their room. He sat up, vision adjusting as he came face to face with a guardsman. The man stared back at the archer, his expression firm eyes unpleasantly narrowed as he motioned towards the door. Softly at his side, Daryl heard Beth inhale, the noise sounding almost painful as the man uttered his statement once more.

"Get up."

"What the hell is goin' on," Daryl growled, finding himself moving at the order despite his mental unwillingness. "We ain't done nothin'."

"Governor is having a word with the town," the guard replied. "Get up and get downstairs. You have five minutes."

Despite his command, the guard did not leave the couple be. He stood there, eyes watching as Daryl helped an uneasy Beth from the mattress. She swayed slightly, her face pale as she moved to gather her clothes from the floor. Daryl's mouth twitched into a frown, knowing that it was clear his wife's morning sickness was not being so mericful that morning. As she stooped down to grab her jeans, the guard held up his hand.

"You don't have time to get dressed," he informed them, tone strict. "Get downstairs."

"She's wearin' a fuckin' nightgown," the archer protested, moving to Beth's side. "Ain't that considered indecent?"

"It's decent enough," the guard frowned, clearly displeased with Daryl's argumentative attitude. "Don't make me tell you twice."

Daryl opened his mouth, ready to once more protest when he felt a hand on his arm. He peered down, seeing Beth gazing at him with tired eyes. She offered a weary smile, letting her hand briefly tighten around his forearm before it relaxed. The archer inhaled, knowing what she was trying to say. That everything was going to be alright. That she was fine. But even so, the resentment the archer held towards the guard in that moment could not be replicated into exact words.

"The other residents of your home are waiting for you downstairs," replied the guardsman. "Best not keep the Governor waiting."

They moved slowly, Beth dragging her feet as they descended the ladder and traveled down the steps. At the bottom, dressed in their nightwear, stood the rest of the household as the guard had promised. Donna stood behind her sons, the boys looking quiet frightened as they gripped onto each other's hands. Duane stood at his father's side, lips pressed firmly together as his eyes followed Daryl and Beth as they came to a halt beside them.

"Think this is about last night?" Allen muttered to Daryl. "About the-"

"No talking," the guard interrupted, jabbing a finger in the man's direction. "We leave now."

Daryl's eyes never left Beth as they moved down the street, the doors of houses opened as the occupants filed out to journey to Hurndon's town square. She looked ill, as if at any given moment, she'd double over and spill out the contents of her previous night's meal. The guard that led them had drawn his weapon, fingers gripping the gun as they moved in a pack towards the already crowded circle. The archer inhaled softly, waiting until Beth's eyes met his before he uttered softly to her.

"Lean on me," he mumbled, letting his arm travel around the girl's waist as she moved gratefully against him. "S'alright."

When they came to a stop, Daryl took notice of the man standing on a platform for the first time. His features no longer held the faux friendliness the archer was used to. Instead, his mouth seemed twisted into a permanent scowl, a patch covering one of his eyes that Daryl could only suppose he had injured during his last encounter with the figure. His stomach twisted, arm tightening around Beth as the Governor's good eye fell upon them, his expression deepening in coldness as he cleared his throat, attention turning to the last of the stragglers who shuffled into the village square.

"As all of you know, one of our guardsmen has gone missing," The Governor explained, looking to all his citizens. "Sargent Gordon. Now, my officers have already torn this town apart in search of our good official, a man who protected and served each and every one of you. A man who does not deserve to be dead, as we are now led to believe." There was a moment of pause, the Governor's frown deepening. "We know that one if not some of you know what happened. If you come forward now, your punishment will not be as severe."

He waited, eye on the crowd as no one stepped forward. Beth inhaled softly beside Daryl, her face pressed against his shoulder as nausea rolled over her in waves. Daryl's grip tightened, most of her weight now leaning against him as a cool breeze blew, ruffling the nightgowns and clothing of those who stood in the street. The Governor frowned, fists clenching as he breathed in deeply.

"Withholding information is as serious as committing the crime itself," he spat. "And as such, until those responsible come forward, food rations will be cut in half. Curfew will be two hours earlier than before."

There were soft murmurs of protest in the crowd, one man in particular stepping forward. He was older, perhaps in his late sixties. He stood before the governor, leaning on a cane as he cleared his throat. The Governor's eyes narrowed onto him as he began to speak, his voice firm despite the age that has slipped into it.

"Now, sir," he began. "I believe in authority. I fought for this country long before the outbreak, but I cannot say that I can stand for-"

The bullet embedded itself in the man's skull before the sound of the shot filled the crowds' ears. The old man crumpled to the ground, those who stood near him stepping back as the Governor eyed his pistol with a look of great interest. Beth gasped at Daryl's side, fingers tightening around his arm as they both stared in complete shock at would had just occurred. A man had been murdered. No trial. No reason. The Governor's attention redirected to the people, his expression remaining the same as if nothing had just happened.

"You may all go back to your houses now," he replied coldly, voice frighteningly calm. "All jobs are cancelled for today. No one is permitted to leave their houses until dawn of tomorrow. Thank you for your time."

There were no protests this time as the people began to file out from the crowded circle. Daryl could feel the Governor's stare follow him as he and Beth turned to leave the area. In silence, the group walked back to the household, thankful that the guards had stayed behind to clean up the mess that had been created by the Governor. Once they were inside, Morgan quietly closed the door, inhaling heavily through his nose.

"So now what?" Allen inquired, looking to the other adults. "They plan to starve us out?"

"We can make it work," Jenny insisted. "We all have had to cut rations before, whose saying we can't-"

"No one is saying we can't," Allen stated. "But we shouldn't have to. Whoever the damn idiot that took the guard out-though I don't blame him-"

"Allen," Donna cut in. "The children!"

"...Whoever did it has ruined it for the rest of us," Allen finished, folding his arms over his chest. "You saw what happened to that man. Didn't even do anything and the Governor..." his voice trailed off, eyes falling to his two young sons who still appeared visibly frightened. "All I'm saying is that we need to think. We need to plan this through and-"

"It was me," Daryl interrupted. "I did it...sorta."

All eyes turned to meet the archer, Beth's gaze especially painful as Daryl inhaled. It hadn't exactly been him, but it might as well as. He'd at least been an accomplice and in the Governor's eyes, that was as good a death sentence as any. He swallowed, adjusting his stance as Morgan's gaze met his own.

"What do you mean, Daryl?"

"I mean, I was there when the guard was killed," he explained, ignoring Beth's shocked stare. "That night, me and Rick-"

"The new guy?" Allen cut in.

"Will ya let me finish?" Daryl growled, Allen wincing at his tone. "We went huntin', caught a few things, were on our way back home when we ran into Gordon," he paused, inhaling deeply. "It all happened so fast. Rick drew, Gordon drew, and the next thing I know, the man's dead on the ground, Apparently Rick was a sheriff once or somethin', got good aim but we dragged the body outside and left it to the walkers." His gaze briefly flickered over to Beth. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you," he muttered. "Couldn't bring myself to."

"Well, that's it then," Allen said, throwing his hands up in the air. "You'll just go tell the Governor that it was Rick and clear the whole thing up."

"And have the man killed?" Donna said, eyeing her husband shamefully. "The man was protecting himself."

"_We_ need to protect ourselves," he insisted. "And our children."

"No," Beth suddenly interrupted, speaking for the first time that day. "I won't have anythin' happen to Daryl. Nobody deserves to be punished. That man...he did a lot and I don't condone his death but it isn't like we can do anythin' about it now," her eyes met Daryl's, look firm as she gazed into his. "I won't have you die."

Daryl stared at Beth, unable to pull his eyes away from her. Despite what he had done, even though he had risked their lives, she was willing to do anything to preserve his. Something inside of him bubbled, a feeling he had only felt a second time around her before. He couldn't explain it, but the strong pull that he experienced towards the woman that was his wife only seemed to be growing stronger. Inhaling, he turned back to Morgan and the others.

"We need to leave," he explained. "Hurndon ain't no place for any of us. It's a goddamn dictatorship. Look, I know ya'll don't know him very well, but Rick said he has people. Maybe...maybe they ain't too far behind. We can leave this place. There's a lot of us. We could make it work."

"What you're suggesting isn't escaping," Allen put in. "It's a damn field trip. We've got kids, Daryl. You got one of your own on the way."

"I can speak for myself," Beth answered. "Thank you for the input, Allen."

The man seemed slightly taken aback by Beth's words, but nodded nevertheless. Donna ushered the children into the other room, her eyes fixed on the adults as she did so. When she returned, Morgan motioned for them all to journey into the kitchen, the door being closed behind them as they entered. The older man inhaled quietly, his hands clasped together as he looked to the others who stood around him.

"Daryl's right," he agreed. "We have to leave."

"What?" Allen interjected. "Morgan, you of all people...you can't be serious!"

"It's becoming just as safe here as it is out there," the man answered, looking to his wife as she reached for his hand. "We have to make choices, decide what is best for us in the long run. Donna and Jenny, they know about babies. We'll be able to help Beth when the time comes. More than they'd be able to do here."

"I'll be fine," Beth agreed, her eyes more focused on Daryl than the rest. "Worryin' about me isn't the main concern here. It's gettin' out."

Her hand slipped down into Daryl's, fingers intertwining with his own. He glanced down, watching as her grip tightened briefly in reassurance before his attention redirected to the other adults. Morgan and his wife seemed on board, even Donna did. It was Allen who still seemed he needed convincing, but with five against one, the odds were not in his favor. Especially with his wife on their side.

"Then it's settled," Morgan said, looking to the others. "We leave. Not sure how. Not sure when. But Hurndon is no longer an option for us."

Daryl looked to Beth, their fingers still tightly knitted together. So it had been finalized, even if not completely. They would be leaving Hurndon. And soon.

**I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Rick'll be popping up soon again as well Carol. As I said before, Rick has "people" so if you're wondering about Michonne. Glenn. Anyone else. They may be his "people". And yes, in this story, Maggie is still Beth's sister. Feedback is greatly loved and appreciated! I really hope people are still interested in this story despite Beth's death. Let me know your thoughts! What you'd like to see! Until next update! -Jen**


	20. Chapter twenty

**The amount of feedback I received last chapter was so overwhelmingly wonderful, I nearly was in tears-okay, maybe a little more than nearly...but still! You guys are truly amazing and I thank you for it! So, as usual, an avalanche of gratitude to electrickpanda, ArtGirlie815, TWD, DarylDixon'sLover, Nikiree, brandy66, Spoonlicker, Joise, JCS2014, lulu52, Crisphe, NanamiYatsumaki, kevkye, MamaDCB, asseylum, sportschick44, TWDobession, iwona-czapaj, Maykits, dee22dee, BurrSquee, Peeca151, TWDfan0001, Guest, kristelalugo, Mione788, cherrywineBA, ElizabethandDarcy, Anara, sourpatchkid26, Ela, ciprianoivashkov, Natercia, TWDFan05, vivalachair, Tania Ibarbia, Daisy, maizateb, Sydmherman, Guest, jeanf, Guest, TaintedHalo8287, angelicedg, gwenstacy, scully578, heatherrk, daylightspeaks, leightonxoxo, bluebook1496, sergensaf, crimsonrose0003, Lucy Lux, Bethyl-Love-Blue-Eyes55, Serialkillingyou, rckyfrk, Scifigirl22, Jackiemgomez, SweetSeductionCherryB, Guest, An Amber Pen, moodylilac, rye7413, Reignashii, jcolunga96, Verostar1221, shanweener, stacycoonan, pisquenta, and cdraco for your super incredible, always motivating feedback messages! Now, onto the next chapter!**

Chapter twenty:

A month had passed since the initial decision to leave Hurndon, everyone seemingly on board with the exception of Allen. Within a few days of the choice, both Carol and Rick had been allowed into the secrecy that was the plan. Rick, having been the one who'd survived the longest in the outside world, had gladly taken lead of the expedition without much argument. Daryl supposed that was the authoritative side of him, not that it really mattered now. Escaping was of the utmost priority and successfully doing so was all that mattered to the archer at this point.

"Baby seems to be doing well."

Daryl watched from a far, arms crossed over his chest as Amy gently pressed her hands down on the swell of Beth's abdomen, getting a feel for the shape and placement of the uterus as she had explained sometime earlier. Beth's mouth curved into a grateful smile, eyes locking onto her husband's as the woman stepped back, allowing the girl to sit up from her previously reclined position.

"Are you getting enough to eat," the woman asked, her voice friendly unlike most who were employed there. "Nutrition is very important at this stage. You're...around three months now, correct?"

"I'm gettin' enough," Beth assured her, pulling down her shirt. "And that should be right. That's what Daryl and I were guessin'."

"End of the first trimester," Amy smiled, her gaze flickering over to Daryl. "That's a good sign. Means that there is less to worry about than there was in the early stages."

The corners of the archer's mouth twisted downward at her words. Amy was not aware of what the couple was planning to do at this point. The dangerous mission they had chosen to embark in by the end of tonight. Rations had been cut tremendously in the household, cans of food hoarded for when such would not be plentiful on the outside. Weapons stock piled from what Daryl could take unnoticed from Walker Control and what Rick had managed to salvage. They were prepared, but certainly not prepared enough. It was a risk, but one that all parties had exhibited a willingness to do so.

"Have you thought of any names?"

The question pulled Daryl from his train of thought as he noticed Amy eyeing both Beth and him intently. The girl smiled thoughtfully, shrugging her shoulders in answer. Daryl couldn't have said it better himself. It wasn't as if he and Beth had really had the time to think of such things now. Besides, he didn't trust himself with naming another person. He and Merle hadn't been given the best names, something he-among other things-had never forgiven his parents for. He didn't wish the same fate on his own offspring.

"Was thinkin' of somethin' like Wyatt," Beth murmured, her eyes meeting Daryl's. "For a boy maybe. My brother, Shawn's, middle name was Wyatt. Maybe Rosie or somethin' for a girl. Daryl and I haven't really talked about it. I guess it may come down to when we see their face for the first time and hopefully get an idea from that."

Amy nodded, Daryl watching as she moved to the makeshift first aid kit and began to dig around. From its contents, she withdrew a small bottle, mostly seeming empty from what he could tell. Carefully, she pressed the bottle into Beth's hands, offering her a small smile as she did so. She glanced over her shoulder, as if half expecting someone to appear in the door frame before she finally returned her attention to the girl.

"Prenatal vitamins," she explained. "We...aren't supposed to give them out unless necessary. The convey's only found a small stock, but I thought you might like them. You're a little thin and I know with rations you're saying you've gotten enough but..." her voice trailed off. "A little extra help never hurt anyone."

Beth clutched the bottle close to her chest, a look of gratitude crossing her features. Daryl too felt thankful for the kind effort on Amy's part. The woman had not only helped them twice before, but now she had even allowed them something they wouldn't otherwise have. A part of him wished he could let her in on the plan, allow Amy to escape with them if she so chose. But as she had mentioned, her sister was wedded to the Governor and if she did not agree with their actions, all could easily be lost.

"You're free to go now," Amy explained, the smile still playing across her features. "I'll have them set your appointment for two weeks from now? Does that sound good to you?"

"It sounds perfect." There was no hint of hesitation in Beth's voice as she spoke, the bottle still clutched between her fingers as she stood. "Thank you, Amy, for everythin'. You've helped us more than you'll ever know."

"It's just a bottle of pills, Beth," Amy assured her, smiling even warmer than before. "I didn't do much."

"You did," Beth promised. "And I know I speak for both Daryl and myself when I say thank you."

The wind blew softly as Daryl and Beth exited the clinic, what few trees there were in the town bending in the slight breeze as their leaves fell onto the ground before them. It had been awhile since the last rain, the garden not doing so great in the unpredictable drought. But canned goods were plentiful enough, given out to houses as needed despite the Governor's orders to limit them. Beth slipped the bottle of pills into her pocket as they walked, her hand reaching forward to take Daryl's as the sun seemed to grow dimmer over the horizon.

"Carol and Rick will be there, won't they?" She murmured, the friendly expression dropping from her features as they continued on. "At the house when we get home?"

"Should be," Daryl muttered. "Gotta lot of settin' up to do before everythin' goes down." He turned slightly, his eyes resting on Beth. "You okay?"

She nodded, lips pressed tightly together. "I guess it doesn't matter at this point if I am or not," she stated, her mouth curving into a weary smile. "I can't lie though, I'm a little nervous."

"S'alright to be," Daryl replied quietly, his eyes gazing towards the distant wall. "I think we all are deep down."

Despite the beautiful weather, the air was eerily tense as the couple made their way down the street and back into their place of residence. The lights were dim, dinner sitting on the table as Morgan looked up from his small plate of corn and motioned for Beth and Daryl to join them. With Rick, his two children, and Carol, the table was far more crammed than usual as the group tried to split the meager amount amongst the thirteen people.

"I don't like corn," Ben mumbled, picking at his food. "Can't we have carrots instead?"

"Yeah," his brother agreed. "I don't like it either."

"You best be grateful for what we have," Donna reminded them. "Some little boys in the world right now would be very happy to have your corn."

It reminded Daryl of the similar threats he used to receive as a child, but those involved children in third world countries when he refused to eat his mother's microwaved meatloaf that she drunkenly made on a whim. Spooning most of his serving onto Beth's plate, despite her look of protest, he met Rick's gaze across the table. Carl and Duane were quietly chatting, the boys seeming less restless than the others as the sheriff cleared his throat.

"Is everythang mostly packed," he inquired, looking to the other occupants before meeting Daryl's gaze again.

"Brought what I could from my household," Carol nodded, not seeming to touch her own meal. "Couldn't get a lot, but snuck what I could."

"We're ready to go," Daryl nodded, glancing over to Beth. "Got supplies, maybe'll last us a week or so, dependin' on how we ration it. Ain't gonna be a lot in the next several miles that the convey hasn't already cleaned out."

"We'll head northeast then," Rick decided, looking towards the other adults as he withdrew a tattered, but intact make of the United States from his pocket. "Head towards Washington D.C. Heard rumors that there might be something out there. The fortification is stronger or somethin' like that."

"And what makes you think it isn't going to be like here," countered Allen. "How can we even trust you when you've been here for what? A few weeks?" He looked to the other members of his party. "I say we bag the whole thing and forget we ever decided this. We're safe here."

"We're not," Rick said slowly. "You've seen what happens. That man, the Governor? He ain't to be reckoned with and I ain't about to sit around and let his shit fly by. You're either with us or not. Nobody's forcing you, but I advise you to come. I've made it from Georgia all the way to here. Some of the people as far as Texas. We know the ropes. We can survive."

Allen fell silent after that, the group finishing dinner before Jenny and Donna took the plates and went to wash them in the sink. The tension was rising in the atmosphere as Beth and Daryl made one last trip up to the attic, deciding it best to gather what little clothes remained to bring with them. The packs were heavy as it was, gear split between each remember of the party. But while the weather was warmer in the south, the further north they decided to travel would change that.

"I probably won't fit into most of this stuff soon anyway," Beth mused as she folded a pair of pants. "But I guess someone else can use it."

Daryl nodded, retrieving his bow from against the wall. All of the arrows had been accounted for, most sitting already in their holster as he slung the weapon over his shoulder. He watched as Beth neatly placed her belongings on the bed, pausing momentarily as she glanced towards the small window of their room. It had already grown dark outside, what little stars that had begun to appear visible through the glass.

"It's gonna be different," she murmured. "Just like in the beginnin'. I've been here for so long that..." her voice trailed off, her eyes meeting Daryl's. "I don't like goodbyes."

The archer moved to her side, briefly setting down his crossbow. Awkwardly, he rested his hand on her shoulder, meeting her gaze before he too glanced towards the small window. It'd be hard to navigate in the darkness, but now was their only chance to escape. He too had been there for a year, the time seeming to have flown by since then. But now they had to leave. Had to escape. If not for any other reason, then for the sake of their child.

"We'll make it," he assured her. "Ain't nothin' we ain't seen before."

Beth nodded, her hand reaching down to clasp his own. She didn't say anything, but merely stood there at his side. Daryl inhaled softly, letting their fingers intertwine as they remained for the last few minutes in the room that they had called their own for the past few months. Though it hadn't been much, it had served them well. And despite Hurndon, this had been their home. They would soon be entering into a territory like no other. A thought that brought the resided fear back to his mind as he concerns for Beth began to fester once more.

The temperature seemed to have risen as the group made their way out into the darkness, Donna gripping her sons' hands as she murmured that they had to be silent. Everyone was armed, with the exception of the young children, with a least something. Knives more common than not. Daryl held his crossbow tightly, Beth by his side as they moved in silence towards the northern wall where they protection was weakest. If they could just slide through, perhaps then they could easily make a run for it. Get a few miles in before anyone figured out they were even gone.

"Where's Allen?" Donna suddenly questioned, causing Daryl to turn and notice that, indeed, her husband had disappeared. "He was right with me."

"Maybe he had to go back for somethin'," Daryl muttered, fingers tightening around his bow. "Sure he's fine."

Judith cooed softly as Carl shifted her in his arms, Beth quietly offering to take her if she got to be too much for him. Despite only having met her a few times, Daryl could tell that Beth had grown quite fond of the baby who was nearing her first birthday-or supposedly as Rick could only assume. As they approached the wall, Rick moved to open what little entrance there was, nodding for Daryl to join him when all of a sudden, the group found themselves blinded by the lights from several beams.

"Stop where you are!"

Daryl felt his stomach drop as he slowly turned, seeing several guardsmen with their guns pointed towards the crowd, the Governor standing right among them and with him, much to the archer shock and disgust, Allen. The man looked hurt and apologetic as he gazed towards his once friends, muttering words of apology as the betrayal sunk into Daryl's chest. Allen had told.

"Drop your weapons," the Governor commanded. "And step forward, one at a time."

Rick didn't move, his hands raised in the air as he met the Governor's one good eye. Silence had filled the air, every nerve in Daryl's body seeming to be on edge as he tried to move in front of Beth, a gun cocking in response when he did. He could hear her breathing, feel her heat against his arm as he stared the guards down, fingers brushing against his crossbow as everyone remained still.

"We don't want trouble," Rick said quietly. "Just let us go."

"I'm afraid I cannot do that," the Governor explained. "Breaking policy."

"I'm sorry," Allen whispered, "I'm so..."

"Shut up," the Governor hissed, elbowing the man in the ribs despite Donna's protesting cry. "You've done enough as it is." His attention turned to Rick and Daryl, the archer feeling his breath hitching in his throat. "So," the man began. "You both killed my guardsman?"

"We don't want trouble," Rick repeated. "It don't matter now."

"But it does," the Governor replied, voice cold. "I can't let somethin' like that pass by."

Daryl slowly inched in front of Beth, using himself to shield her in case something went awry. All eyes seemed fixated on him and Rick as the Governor continued to talk, his words seeming lost in the ring that filled Daryl's ears. He looked towards Allen, the man seeming desperate and upset in the way his actions had turned out. He was muttering something, words that were barely audible unless Daryl listened closely.

"It was all a mistake," he muttered. "I just wanted us to be safe. I just wanted-"

The gun went off before anyone had a moment to react. The sound echoing through the town as Allen slumped forward, his body seeming to crumple on top of itself as he hit the ground. A moment of silence. Of shock as Donna's scream of horror rang out from behind as the Governor aimed his gun towards Daryl. And then, in what had been the calm of the night, the gates of Hell opened.

It was then chaos erupted.

**I won't say much, just'll let this sink in. But feedback is greatly loved and appreciated. Could save your favorite character from dying in the next chapter as I haven't decided who'll be traveling with Rick yet (besides Beth and Daryl of course). Let me know who'd you'd like to see more of! And if there is a decent amount of feedback, I'll update again tomorrow. Otherwise it'll probably be on Thursday. I hope you enjoyed! Until next chapter, folks! -Jen**


	21. Chapter twenty one: Part One

**Super short chapter (which is why it's part one of two). But I wanted to get something out to you today. I promise longer chapters, but if you guys don't mind a little shortness, I could possibly update every day instead of every other day. You guys are just so amazing, you know that? Alrighty, as usual, a tremendous wave of gratitude to cherrywineBA, DarylDixon'sLover, staceycoonan, crimsonrose0003, Maykits, kevkye, TheGoldenElf, Peeca151, maizateb, An Amber Pen, ArtGirlie815, NanamiYatsumaki, daylightspeaks, Tania Ibarbia, Dixongurl, Guest, Ela, BurrSquee, TWDobession, kristelalugo, Reignashil, DixonGreene010, DixonShipster, AnnMarie318, TWDfan0001, TWDFan05, rckyfrk, Joise, jeanf, heatherrk, Rainedonmyparade, GabbyAbby, Sydmherman, cdraco, Jackiemgomez, bluebook 1496, Serialkillingyou, gwenstacy, Maxkenzie, Nicolina88, Mhilano, Bethyl-Love-Blue-Eyes55, Verostar1221, beba20000, Guest, and Crisphe for your amazing, always inspiring reviews last chapter! Now onward in this tale!**

Chapter twenty one: Part One

There are a few moments when a disaster occurs where the body becomes numb. The mind races to comprehend what has just happened, ignoring all other functions until the realization finally hits. Daryl stood beside Beth, his hand gripping her wrist as Allen lay before them, Donna's screams of sorrow sounding muffled as all stared down in complete shock as the Governor's gun aimed towards the archer. Within seconds, the area was filled with gunfire as Rick was quick enough to shoot next, grazing the leader with a bullet which momentarily disabled him.

In those few seconds, Daryl's feet began to move, Beth pulled behind him as he ran in the opposite direction down the street. His heart pounded, mind racing as doors to houses opened up, curious spectators glancing out at the sound of the gun fight. Faintly the archer could smell smoke, unable to see the glow from the growing orange blaze that had spouted behind him. In the dry conditions, a bullet-or perhaps several-must've struck something, causing the fire that slowly grew out of control.

"Daryl," Beth panted, her voice sounding distant as the archer pulled them towards the opposite wall. "Daryl, stop! Our friends!"

Daryl's grip tightened around Beth's wrist as his eyes scanned the massive, concrete wall for any points of breach. Everyone else was not on his top priority list right now. Getting Beth out safely was of the utmost importance and if that meant having to momentarily abandon Rick and the others, it was a sacrifice he'd have to live with. However, he found himself pulled from his rapid train of thought when Beth tugged away, breaking the contact he had with her. He gazed at her, his eyes locking onto hers as she breathed steadily, the red haze from the fire illuminating the look of somber molded into her expression.

"We have to help them," she said, the panic nearly hidden in her tone. "We can't just leave them here."

The archer bit down on the inside of his cheek, inhaling sharply through his nose as he looked behind him. The scene was chaotic. People were scrambling, some houses already ablaze. The gun fire was muffled now by the crackling inferno that quickly seemed to be engulfing what it could. The man turned back to his wife, gritting his teeth together as he reached for his crossbow.

"Stay here," he instructed. "Unless someone comes for you or the fire gets too close, you wait for me."

"I can help-"

"No," Daryl replied firmly. "You ain't riskin' your life or that of our..." his voice trailed off. "I ain't about to let nothin' happen to you. Got it?"

Beth didn't bother arguing, but nearly nodded in relent. Throwing one last look at her, Daryl rushed back in the direction they had previously come from. The fire's heat burned the hairs on the back of his neck, dried what little moisture there was in his mouth as he fought his way through, eyes squinting as the heat caused his tear ducts to water in pain. Screams were muffled by the cracks and crumbles of woodwork as they gave into the inferno that engulfed them.

"Rick," Daryl shouted, covering his mouth as he coughed violently. "Morgan!"

People scrambled with their belongings, pushing past Daryl as they tried to escape the certain death the fire promised. The archer pressed onward, grunting as a woman knocked against him, the contents of her arms shattering on the ground beneath them. She continued on nevertheless, running towards the direction of one of the walls where citizens were surely trying to find an exit as he and his group had tried previously.

"Jenny," Daryl tried again. "Donna!"

The roar of the blaze powered over any other sound as Daryl took a step back, fire bursting from the window of one of the houses. For all he knew, the others were dead. And the further he tried to get back to the north wall, the harder it became. The fire's strength was too strong to break through. Daryl inhaled, his nose aching from the stench of black smoke as he turned around, readying to go back to Beth when his ears were met with a desperate cry.

"Mommy," it shrieked. "Daddy!"

Daryl turned towards the sound and to his surprise, squatting on the ground with her small hands covering her ears was a young girl. She appeared to be no older than four, her hair dark and skin a pale shade of olive. She trembled, body far too close to the flames than was safe. Without thinking, Daryl sprung forward, moving towards the little girl's side just as one of the wooden structures toppled behind him, blocking his previous path.

"Hey," he murmured, pulling the girl's hands away. "C'mere, we'll get out of this, okay?"

"My mommy and daddy," she sniffed, seeming to lean away from the stranger.

"We'll find 'em," Daryl promised, lifting the girl up as she wrapped her arms around his neck. "But we gotta get out first, okay?"

The archer adjusted the girl in his arms, his bow strap now twisted awkwardly around his shoulder as his eyes scanned for any means of escape. The fire towered over them like wall, its flames seemingly reaching towards the sky as the archer attempted to cross its blaze. He struggled to breathe, the girl burying her face in the crook of his neck as he ran. The inferno licked at his skin, smoldering his clothes as he moved briskly, eyes reduced to watery slits as he pushed passed the greater part of the destructive disaster.

As the girl clung to him, her small nails like tiny daggers in the back of his neck, Daryl pushed his way back towards Beth, holding onto his rescuee tightly. As he passed what had once been a row of houses, now nothing more than funeral pyres, he saw a figure straggling towards him. The man moved with a limp, his body seemingly carrying the weight of the world as he went. At first, Daryl thought perhaps it was Rick. Or another of his group. The corners of his mouth twitched into a smile of relief as the man drew closer, only to fall when he saw who it was.

"You," the Governor hissed, his hand still brandishing his weapon. "You did this."

Daryl held the girl tight, uncertain what he should do as the man pointed his gun lazily towards the archer. He was vulnerable. His weapon over his shoulder, hands tied with a child. Would this be his future with a kid of his own? If he were, in fact, to make it now? He inhaled deeply, mouth curved downward as the Governor prepared to shoot. There was nothing he could say or do to stop it. He was at the will of God, if there was in fact one.

"STOP!"

The voice was shrill, female, and carried much farther than anything had in the blaze. Both Daryl and the Governor turned, the girl's face still hidden in Daryl's neck as they saw who had summoned the command. There, standing but a few feet away, her hands gripping a gun that did not quiver despite the fear and anger in her expression was Andrea.

**I'm so sorry for the length! I promised you guys and update but I was so busy today. But here's a little something and I'll work hard to have a larger version of part two posted tomorrow if all goes well. Feedback is greatly loved and appreciated, I hope you enjoyed the action. Also how much do you like Amy? Because I am really debating whether to kill her now or keep her for a bit. Let me know! Until tomorrow! -Jen**


	22. Chapter twenty one: Part Two

**A huge thanks to all for bearing with me on that short chapter! I seriously appreciate it! Alright, as usual, a thunderstorm of gratitude to DarylDixon'sLover, LitLover1228, sillymommy2010, Natercia, asseylum, Mione788, LegoMama0614, Anara, Ela, heatherrk, TWDFan05, malzateb, Maykits, An Amber Pen, SweetSeductionCherryB, NanamiYatsumaki, rye7413, kristelalugo,Tania Ibarbia, Joise, MaidenAlice, TWDfan0001, ArtGirlie815, Reignashii, cdraco, Sydmherman, jeanf, bluebook1496, Spoonlicker, crimsonrose0003, gwenstacy, Guest, BurrSquee, ciprianoivashkov, jcolunga96, and Riain for your wonderful, always motivating and inspiring reviews! Now, onto part two!**

Chapter twenty one: Part Two

The Governor's expression of rage turned into one of surprise as he eyed his wife aiming a pistol in the direction of his forehead. Daryl remained silent, holding the girl tightly as he watched the confrontation in awe. He could take the chance and run, but the Governor's gun was still pointed at his own body and he knew, despite his wife's command, the leader would not hesitate to end his life now. Andrea glared at her husband, her chest rising and falling in heavy breaths as she remain poised, readying to shoot if necessary.

"Andrea," the Governor said in a cool voice. "The children?"

"Safe," she replied bluntly. "That's all you need to know."

The man nodded, his lips pressed into a thin line that Daryl could almost swear caused the normally pink skin to turn white. His gun was still aimed at the archer and the girl, the child's softly whimpering against Daryl as he held his ground firmly. His mind however was not on his own safety, but that of Beth's. It would be no surprise if walkers had already begun to venture into the inferno that was Hurndon now. Especially if the citizens had successfully found their various means of escape.

"Andrea, put the gun down," the Governor continued. "You don't want to get involved in this."

"I'm tired of being told what to do and not, Philip," Andrea answered, her tone sharp. "Let him go."

The corners of the Governor's mouth twisted into a deep frown at his wife's words. Daryl heard the familiar sound of a gun being cocked as the Governor's handgun remained locked and loaded on his person. The child buried her face deeper into his neck, the heat from both her body and the approaching flames nearly unbearable to the archer as he remained in the line of fire, feeling helpless in this standoff.

"He did this, Andrea," the man insisted. "The fire, our home. Everything he ruined, he deserves to die."

"You've contributed to the numbers of the dead enough," insisted the woman. "This ends now. I won't hesitate to shoot you, Philip. Just lower your weapon and walk away, no one has to get hurt. Not today."

The Governor inhaled deeply, his chest falling as if he had just been given sorrowful news. Then, without warning, the weapon turned to face Andrea. The woman's eyebrows rose in surprise as she eyed the gun pointed in her direction. Her hands tightened on her own pistol, still aimed at her husband. Daryl watched in horror, the standoff between the man and woman too close to call what would happen next. He began to untangle the child from his shirt, attempting to reach his bow in order to even the odds.

"It didn't have to end like this, Andrea," the Governor yelled. "We could've been happy together like the old days."

"What's in the past is in the past, Philip," Andrea called back. "You can never go back."

With the Governor's attention drawn elsewhere, Daryl carefully set the child down on the ground beside him. Like vines, her arms wrapped around his leg as he withdrew his crossbow, pointing it in the direction of the other man. The Governor finally noticed out of the corner of his eye, glancing towards Daryl with a humorless smile. Slowly, he placed down his weapon, hands raised as Daryl's bow aimed an arrow in his direction. The Governor took a step back, looking from Andrea to Daryl.

"You've both made a grave mistake," he stated. "We were safe here."

"If you wanna call it that," Daryl growled, ready to take down the man if Andrea so desired it.

"This isn't the end," he shouted, watching as Andrea scurried forward and took her husband's gun. "You haven't seen the last of me. Of any of us!"

"C'mon, Daryl," Andrea murmured, the archer curious as to how he knew her name. "Let's go."

With the girl back in his arms, they began to walk away, leaving the Governor to stand alone as the flames grew closer. The child's arms hugged his neck as he carried her, the crossbow back over his shoulder. A part of him wondered if perhaps he should have ended the other man's life right then. But Hurndon had finally fallen, there wasn't much power or authority the Governor could possibly have left. What harm could he do now?

"Beth's with us," Andrea explained. "She's safe. She told me you went back and I knew that he was looking for you. Are you alright."

"Fine," Daryl said. "Back there, with your husband..."

"It's fine," she murmured. "No need to thank me. I've been wanting to do that for months."

She gave him a weary smile as they slipped out from a broken part of the wall, entering into the warm night where the flames had yet to reach. Despite the commotion, there appeared to be no walkers around as they made their way towards the woods. The archer squinted, several figures were standing around at the entrance of the forest, the atmosphere too dark to make them out. As they drew closer, the girl let out a scream.

"Mommy!"

She wriggled from Daryl's arms, flying towards a woman who ran to her. Daryl watched as the woman scooped her up, a man hurrying to her side that he recognized as Abraham. Together, the parents hugged their daughter tightly, murmuring words of gratitude and relief that she was alright. The archer's mouth curved into a slight smile as he moved forward, Abraham's eyes meeting his in a serious, but thankful look.

"Thank you," he muttered gruffly. "For saving Emilia."

"So that's your name," Daryl commented, looking to the little girl who nodded. "Nice to meet you, Emilia."

The girl smiled, burying her face in her mother's neck as another figure hurried forward. Before the archer had a moment to react, Beth's arms wrapped around his side, tugging him into a tight hug. Daryl was slightly astonished for a moment, but soon relented and hugged her back. She smelled of sweat and soot, but he didn't care. It was a relief to know that she was alright. His chin rest on the top of her blonde hair, inhaling softly as his mind became somewhat at ease.

"Rick, his children, Morgan, Jenny, Duane, Tara, Eugene, and Carol are here too," she explained. "And Amy with Andrea's children. We..." her voice trailed off. "Rick said it got hazy after the gun fight. They lost track of Donna and the twins... They couldn't find them. And Bob...he's missing too."

There was pain in Beth's voice as Daryl remained in her arms. Gingerly he patted her back, more relieved that she was alright than the possible loss of their friends. He turned, watching as the others advanced forward, faces still and covered in ash and grease, but alive. The archer nodded to Rick, the man standing beside his son who held his small sister in his arms. Of the many adults, there now were eight children in the group. Daryl had never had to worry about young ones while he and Merle were on the run.

Thomas whined in Amy's arms as Andrea stepped forward, taking her son from her sister as her daughter watched quietly. Penny didn't look much like Andrea, not like her brother did, and she seemed much older than the rest of the brood. Not Duane's age, but perhaps around eight or nine. Definitely before the outbreak had started. She peered past her step mother, eyeing the flaming structure that was once Hurndon.

"Where's daddy?"

Andrea inhaled, meeting Amy's gaze as the little girl looked up at Andrea expectantly. The woman merely shook her head, looking to the others in the group. In the distance, there were the sounds of gunfire and growls. Walkers. They needed to move quickly. It wouldn't be long before the herds started coming in and with as many children as there were to protect, it would be hard to defend themselves as it was.

"We move," Rick said, retrieving his map from his pocket. In what dim light there was, Daryl could just make out what roads and cities laden the weathered paper. "Find somewhere safe for the night. Decide on what to do next from there. We need to get as far away from here as possible. Knocked out what guards I could, but there was still a lot when we got out. It ain't safe here, and I don't just mean the walkers."

"And from there?" Abraham questioned, stepping forward. "We just-what? Hope we come across another town or somethin'? Ya'll didn't think of a plan before this shit went down?"

"Up north it's safer," Rick countered. "I heard rumors that there are safe points."

"Rumors," Abraham scoffed, looking to the others. "That ain't worth shit! You destroyed fuckin' Hurndon for a rumor?"

"You don't have to come," the sheriff growled, his own tolerance level lowering. "No one is forcin' you."

"But you just step forward and led everyone else, is that it?" the red haired man frowned. "Who decided to make you leader anyway? This ain't no dictatorship. If anythin', I should be in charge. I have a military background and-"

"I can contest to what he said," Eugene replied, speaking for the first time. "I...I'm a scientist. In Washington, we were workin' on a cure before things got so bad. If we get back there, I can stop this."

Eugene didn't seem nor look like someone of his profession, that much was clear to Daryl. But after so long, no one looked like who they once where. The arguments between Rick and Abraham stopped, the army man looking to the scientist in great awe. Rosita stepped forward, Emilia at her side along with another little girl and a third in her arms. If what the man stated was true, then everything could be stopped. Maybe life could go back to what it once was, or at least something along those lines.

"Okay," Abraham agreed, looking to his wife. "Okay, we'll go to Washington."

As they made their way through the dense foliage, Daryl looked down to Beth. She walked slower than the rest, face worn with exhaustion. She offered him a small smile when she caught his eyes on her. Gently, she reached down, taking his hand in hers as they continued to move. Her skin was warm, perhaps a little warmer than it should normally be. But Daryl just assumed it was because of the heat from the fire.

"You alright," he murmured, meeting her gaze. "Back there, I thought..."

"Amy helped me out," she explained. "I wasn't gonna leave at first, but Andrea agreed to go back for you. I was worried that maybe somethin' had happened to you."

"I'm fine," Daryl assured her. "Jus' glad we're out of that place." He paused, watching as the others grew a little further ahead than they were. "Look," he mumbled. "We ain't under the rule anymore. If you don't wanna be with me or..."

"You're my husband," Beth said, cutting him off. "We're family now. I...I wouldn't want it any other way."

Daryl nodded, feeling that strange sensation in his chest once more. He pushed it aside, his fingers tightening around hers as they hurried to catch up with the others. It was growing darker, the distant smell of Hurndon's smoke still meeting his nasal passages as they went. But at least Beth was safe, that was what mattered. And as they walked, going deeper into the unknown, it was that same odd feeling that kept him at ease. That made all of this seem okay. They were safe now. Alive. There was nothing to worry about until tomorrow.

At least that was true, like most events, being the simple calm before the storm.

**Got up early to write this before work. I hope you enjoyed. I promise more bethyl to follow. I apologize that the lengths have been short lately but I've been strapped for time. I will do my best to update tomorrow as well, but I have a lot of work before my finals next week. Anywho, feedback is greatly loved and appreciated, it seriously helps motivate me to keep the updates coming so frequently. Let's me know your thoughts and what you'd like to see! Alrighty, until next time! -Jen**


	23. Chapter twenty two

**I am unable to stop writing this fic, if even for a few days, I just love it so much! So to treat myself for some exam studying, I will write a chapter! An ocean of gratitude to Dixongurl, mellymoo13, sergensaf, cherrywineBA, Ela, LitLover1228, DarylDixon'sLover, jeanf, orayofsunshine, sillymommy2010, Mione788, Tania Ibarbia, kristelalugo, Natercia, Maykits, Sydmherman, heatherrk, jclunga96, BurrSquee, angelicedg, Spoonlicker, Atilia Dawn Black, malzateb, JCS2014, DixonShipster, rckyfrk, NanamiYatsumaki, Joise, Crisphe, Ayame2004, crimsonrose0003, Verostar1221, Mhilano, gwenstacy, An Amber Pen, TWDfan0001, MissieMae, Reignashii, TWDFan05, TWDobsession, Anara, ledanna, stacycoonan, ZombertHunter, MamaDCB, Catapapalilar x3, ciprainnoivoshkov, pisquenta and SweetSeductionCherryB for your incredible, awesome reviews left for the last chapter! Now onward, my fellow readers!**

Chapter twenty two:

The arrow pierced the walker's forehead right between where the eyebrows, now just torn masses of skin, would've been located. It crumpled to the ground, its body even more lifeless than before as Daryl stepped forward and withdrew the deadly rod from its leprous skull. Without much thought, he slipped it back into its holder, inhaling as the stench filled his nostrils, bile burning in the back of his throat. Despite having been around them for so long, the corpses still had their way of turning a man's stomach. He exhaled, peering back at the weary group of travelers as the thunder rumbled overhead.

Three days. That was the time frame it had been since their escape from Hurndon. Supplies ran thin in the group, much of what they had not enough for the several people they cared for. The children did not eat much however, their bellies much smaller than those of the adults-and most parents were willing to give their rations to their respected offspring. Daryl moved to Beth's side, the girl peering up at the gray sky with a curious expression on her face.

"Rain," she murmured. "It hasn't rained in days."

"Could jus' be heat lightenin'," Abraham commented, holding his youngest daughter, Isabelle, in his arms. "Ain't like we've been so lucky in the past."

"Heat lightening doesn't thunder," Morgan mumbled, glancing up towards the clouds. "We best keep movin'."

They had been fortunate, in a sense, that the walker population had been low during their journey. With so many young children and unpredictable bouts of crying, moving had become that much more dangerous than it had when all had traveled alone to Hurndon in the first place. Rick glanced over at his son, Judith fast asleep in Carl's arms as he checked his gun's magazine. Like Daryl, most of the protection had fallen onto his shoulders. Weapons scarce amongst the group with the exception of the occasional knife.

"It'd be nice to get some rain," Carol commented as they pressed on. "Could use some water to fill the bottles up with."

"Yeah," Tara muttered. "If you don't mind getting wet."

The noise seemed to grow more intense the further on they went, what little light still shown in the sky disappearing as small droplets began to surface upon the ground and surrounding areas. The archer watched as Abraham's and Rosita's middle child, Taryn, swatted at her face with a frown, clearly bothered by the unexpected rain. Daryl moved closer to Beth, eyes glancing up towards the sky as the heavier downpour began.

"Shit," the archer cursed, ignoring the few women who scolded him for such language. "Gotta find shelter now."

Few walkers stumbled about in the distance, the rain at least lessening the group's scent as they moved into the woods, feet sloshing in the mixture of water, mud, and pine needles. Thomas whined in Andrea's arms, the mother trying to shush her agitated son as a walker turned towards the sound only to be taken out by Daryl. The woman looked to the archer in thanks as Daryl went to retrieve his arrow. He knew not to be agitated, in due time, he too would have a child of his own.

"I've kinda missed the rain," Beth commented as Daryl returned to her side. "It's peaceful."

Her skin was warm to the touch when he brushed against her, warmer than it should been. The archer's eyes briefly studied her expression, looking for any signs of discomfort. Besides a look of exhaustion, which the girl usually sported now, she seemed fine. He inhaled, the smell of the storm soothing as he adjusted his crossbow on his back. He worried a great deal, that much he regretfully knew, but it didn't help that they were currently vulnerable in the middle of no where.

"Stop concernin' yourself so much."

The archer stiffened at the words, blinking to see that Beth was now the one watching him. She offered him a smile, expression friendly as ever despite the seriousness in her tone. He watched as her hand traveled down to the slight swell of her middle, gently resting on the apex of her growing abdomen. It was not often he caught Beth's hand resting there, nor had he ever bothered to feel her stomach as it was. It seemed intimate, something that should be tread lightly on. And though it was far from when she'd be able to feel their child, he couldn't help but wonder what it must be like.

"I'm fine," she insisted, reaching out to allow her fingers to briefly linger against his own. "I promise."

The further they walked, the more dense the forest got. The rain struggled to slip between the several layers of leaves as Rick finally stopped in his tracks, turning to look at the others. The area seemed relatively dry, walker safe from what Daryl could see and hear over the overpowering rainstorm. And with the children tired, perhaps it would make a decent place to camp for the night. They would, after all, have to try to find a main road by the morning. Markers would make it a lot easier in trying to find a route to Washington.

"We stop here for the night," Rick said, looking to the others. "Take shifts durin' the night, keep an eye out for walkers or trespassers." He turned, looking towards Jenny. "How many cans we got?"

"Fourteen," replied Morgan's wife. "Last time I checked. First bag's got seven, pretty sure it's the same for the other."

The sheriff nodded thoughtfully. "We'll use two tonight," he decided. "Split it up. We ain't gotta worry so much about energy during the night. It's tomorrow's travel that's an issue. Daryl," his attention redirected to the archer. "Think maybe you could scrounge up some dry firewood?"

"I'll go too," Beth cut in, Daryl opening his mouth to argue. "I could use some walkin' to keep me up."

Rick nodded, watching as Rosita riffled through the bag of cans, pulling out two labeled cream of chicken. They were large enough, maybe for three people to eat heartily and watering it down some would provide just enough for a few more portions. It wasn't much, but for now, until they could find a location the convoy hadn't touched, it would have to do.

"C'mon," Beth murmured, nudging Daryl lightly. "Can't cook soup without a fire."

He exhaled, eyeing her with slight annoyance as he followed her out into the woods. He shifted his crossbow off his shoulder, eyes peering at the surroundings. No walkers seemed present, which was thankfully rare. He watched as Beth knelt down, scooping up pieces of dried bark and sticks from the ground. If he could interject without her scolding him, he'd suggest that maybe lifting things wasn't such a good idea in her condition. But Beth was strong. A survivor. And wasn't one who was afraid to prove it.

"Oh," she paused, suddenly dropping her stash. "Gosh darn it, I knew somethin' was makin' me itch."

As Daryl drew closer, mostly out of worry at her interjection, he watched as Beth picked a small tick off her arm. A small droplet of blood escaped from the odd, bullseye shaped mark that rested on her wrist. Using her nails, she squashed the invasive creature and with a slight flick, sent the carcass away. Her eyes met Daryl, a smile of amusement playing across her features.

"Happens when you're in the outdoors," she mused. "Must mean my blood is sweet."

"That's sayin's for mosquitoes," the archer muttered, bending down to pick up what Beth had dropped. "But I guess you could use it for ticks too."

His eyes followed her as she went about collecting more wood that had yet to be defiled by the storm's rage. Overhead the wind howled, trees swaying against its might as Daryl and Beth sidestepped a branch that crumpled to the ground. At least they weren't out in the middle of it. The forest might be somewhat eerie on its own accord, but the protection it offered from the elements was enough to satisfy the archer.

"Remember when Amy asked us about baby names?" Beth brought up suddenly, her eyes adverted from Daryl as she moved about gathering wood. "Did you have an opinion on the names I thought of?"

"Wyatt and Rosie?" Daryl inquired, surprised at himself for remembering. "Not like I had anythin' choosen."

"You remembered!" There was excitement in her voice, almost as if he had presented her with diamond jewelry or something of equal value. "Well, do you like either of them or do you gotta few names you like?"

"Like I said, I ain't chosen nothin'," he replied, tone accidentally harsh. "So whatever you want is good with me."

"Oh," there was disappointment in her voice that caused Daryl's stomach to twist in guilt. "I just thought since he's both our child, we could maybe decide together..."

"Ain't even know if he's a he yet," Daryl mumbled, piling more wood on his own stack. He hadn't meant to be so short with Beth, the stress from exhaustion and worry had finally thinned his ability to hold a proper mood. "C'mon," he muttered. "Better get back to the others."

Within time, the group's small fire grew into a reasonably sized blaze as all gathered around to eat their meager portions and warm their wet selves. Beth sat beside Daryl, not saying much when he poured half of his own onto her makeshift plate. Again he felt the twist of guilt, wondering if he had hurt her feelings and that was why she lacked the ability to argue with him about this like she normally did. He inhaled through his nose, the smell of the canned coup surprisingly welcoming as he began to drink what little meal he had left.

"I think we're around here," Rick mumbled, pointing at his map in the dim firelight. "Woodhaven. If we continue north, we should hit route 220 early tomorrow mornin'. Can't be but a mile, maybe two away. We can see how the herds look, decide how we wanna go about it from there. Maybe if we're lucky, we can even find somethin' that's got gas."

Daryl nodded, placing his plate aside as Beth leaned against him. God, was she warm. His own skin began to sweat from her heat. He turned to her, eyes noticing how haggard her own expression had become. She breathed slowly, hands still cupping her meal of soup as she sipped every so often, attention on Rick. Was she getting sick? As he reached to feel her forehead, his hand was swatted away.

"I'm fine," she repeated, her tone unconvincing. "It's just muggy out here."

"Carol and I will take the first shift tonight," Rick finished, looking to the woman who nodded. "Daryl and Abraham, around midnight or so we'll switch?"

"Sounds fine with me," the red haired military man said gruffly. Daryl just nodded.

As Rosita and Tara went to clean the plates, Abraham seeming more interested in watching Eugene than with offering to help, Beth stood up from her spot and began to walk towards the edge of camp. Frowning, the archer left his spot as well, moving to join her where she stood against the line of trees. Her arms were folded as she leaned against one of the trunks, eyes seemingly fixed on something in the distance.

"You alright," Daryl asked, hesitating before he moved to stand beside her. "You didn't eat much."

"Do you think Washington will be like Hurndon," she inquired, not meeting his stare. "So strict?"

"Dunno," he replied honestly. "But we ain't got many other options than that."

His stare fell on her, noticing for the first time that she was trembling. The corners of his mouth twisted into a deep frown, clearly bothered by this latest symptom. Something was going on with Beth and she was refusing to share it with the group or even him. Pausing, he awkwardly placed his arm on her shoulder, surprised when she in turn, leaned against him. Her skin was sticky now, a thin sheer of sweat visible on her temples.

"Beth?" he asked, concern slipping into his tone. No answer. "Beth?"

Without warning, she slid towards the ground, Daryl managing to catch her before she hit it. Her features had gone white, cheeks a deep rosy complexion as the archer struggled to get a better hold of her. His heart pounded, mind racing as he looked towards the near distant fire and the group that had gathered around it. Inhaling deeply, he lifted Beth up, her skin hot against his own as he began to hurry back to the campsite.

"Shit," he cursed, a sense of self loathing coming over him at his ignorance to notice or, therefore, accept that his wife had been ill. "Fuckin' hell. Beth!"

The girl did not respond as he brought her back to the site, a few of the people stepping back as if in fear she had been bitten. Daryl was panting, a look of desperation in his eyes as Amy moved forward, clearly one of the more level headed members of the group. She met Daryl's gaze, eyes filled with concern as she immediately began to take a look at the unconscious figure.

"I dunno what happened," Daryl insisted. "One minute she's fine and the next..."

"It's gonna be alright," Amy assured him, the false smile on her features long from reassuring. "We'll take care of this."

But Daryl knew it was far worse than a simple fainting spell, Beth having to be pried from his grip as Amy instructed the single tarp they had brought to be laid near the fire. The archer watched, stomach twisting as Rick and Amy eased Beth down, her slight swell casting a shadow on the blue plastic as Amy moved to work. She paused when she got near the girl's wrist, the corners of her mouth twitching as she examined the mark the tick had left on her wrist.

"Bug got her," Daryl muttered, unable to make himself look Amy directly in the eyes. "She...she pulled it off earlier."

"This isn't just a bug bite," Amy murmured, her tone somber as Daryl finally met her stare.

"Well what the hell else could it be?" The archer growled, his worry for his wife and child's heath more important than being polite.

"I think..." Amy hesitated, inhaling unevenly. "I think it's Lyme Disease."

Daryl felt the bile rise in his throat as he looked down at his still wife. A feeling of dread coming over him as he watched Amy command for water and something like a rag to be brought over. He felt sick, unreasonably so. Vulnerable. Helpless. He could only watch as Amy moved to take care of Beth, the girl that carried his child. The girl he had grown to care about. Whose life now, in his eyes, teetered between the edges of life and death.

**Sorry, another cliff hanger. I do love them because it gives me something nice to lead into the next chapter. Um, thoughts...thoughts...thoughts... Oh, I have a lot of bethyl moments planned for the next chapter! I also have something sinister coming up in the future that I thought of. No hints though. Um, if you are wondering which children go with which parents: Abraham and Rosita (Emilia, Isbelle, and Taryn), Andrea (Penny and Thomas), Jenny and Morgan (Duane), and Rick (Carl and Judith). Don't worry, the list of people will both grow and dwindle soon-interpret that as you choose. Feedback is greatly loved and appreciated, keeps me motivated and may or may not make me ease up on our baby Beth a little. Let me know your thoughts! I hope you enjoyed! Also this story is nearing 1,000 freaking reviews! When it does, I'll do something special. Maybe an extra chapter or something! Until next time, folks! -Jen**


	24. Chapter twenty three

**Just wanted to quickly say, as I've gotten a few questions, Beth's maybe had her tick for a week or so and just now noticed it. I am so sorry for the confusion. Thank you for those who brought it up, I should have clarified it! And a huge amount of thanks to Dixongurl, Serialkillingyou, Mione788, BurrSquee, DarylDixon'sLover, StephMcG, GabbyAbby, LitLover1228, Guest, Ela, kristelalugo, jeanf, benevolent01, Tania Ibarbia, malzateb, asseylum, Guest, Natercia, ledanna, crimsonrose0003, angelicedg, Reignashii, rckyfrk, cherrywineBA, heatherrk, An Amber Pen, kevkye, TWDFan05, Sydmherman, Joise, Ayame2004, Guest, missy7293, MamaDCB, Solunalux, jcolunga96, engineergirl86, Maykits, and gwenstacy for your wonderful, always motivating reviews! Now onward to the next chapter!  
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Chapter twenty three:

By late that night, the reminiscence of the thunderstorm had passed, leaving wisps of dark clouds just visible through the breaks in the treetops. The temperature had dropped some, the air cool as the front entered into the area. Even though it was only early autumn in Mississippi, the weather most consistently warm, it was just cold enough to make a person wish they had at light jacket. Something that was not readily available now.

Daryl watched as Carol poked at the fire, her face illuminated in an orange glow as she did her best to keep it going. Most of the group had fallen asleep, the children curled beside their parents as unconsciousness anchored them under. Despite his exhaustion, the archer remained alert as he watched the sleeping girl at his side. Her head draped in a torn cloth moistened in what little rainwater he was able to collect.

"You need rest."

He didn't look up despite having been addressed, he knew Carol was watching him. Inhaling deeply, he began to pick away at the pine needles he found to be too close to Beth's body. Not that it did much good, but busying himself was better than just sitting there waiting for her fever to break. He stiffened when he felt the hand on his shoulder, the older woman's fingers gently curling around the bone. The archer's gaze never left his wife's frame as the other woman settled beside him, abandoning her stick as she exhaled slowly.

"Beth's a fighter," she murmured. "Had to be to even get here in the first place. She'll pull through this too."

"She needs medicine," he muttered, breathing sharply through his nose. "Amy said-"

"Amy was a college student before this," Carol stated quietly. "Studying business, not medicine. She knows what she does simply because of the role she was placed in by Hurndon. Medicine would help, I won't deny that. But right now, we don't exactly have what she needs. But I've seen cases of Lyme Disease before. My hus...Ed had it once. Made him tired as all get out and sick as a dog, but he didn't die. Not that way at least."

He felt Carol's fingers tighten in comfort around his shoulder but was still unable to meet her gaze. His attention was drawn to Beth, watching as her chest rose up and down rhythmically. A part of him feared, though irrational as it was, if he were to turn away, she would disappear. He swallowed hard, inhaling deeply once more before brushing back a lock of her blonde hair that had slipped from her ponytail.

"You love her, don't you?"

It was the first statement from Carol's mouth that caused the archer to glance in her direction. He blinked, somewhat stunned by her random accusation. His heart pounded against his rib cage, the feeling somewhat unsettling as if he were embarrassed by such an idea. Dixons didn't think of love. They didn't know love. Love was not getting beat every time your father came home drunk. Love was not being called worthless by your mother whenever you passed by her in the living room. To him and Merle, that was love. Not what the damn dictionary might define it as. Not what it truly meant.

"She's my wife," he muttered, forcing his eyes to focus on the ground. "Dunno what you want me to say."

"People can be married and not love each other," Carol concluded. "But I've seen the way you look at her. How you treat her. Maybe if you told her-"

"I ain't gonna say nothin' to her," Daryl snapped, clearly agitated from his lack of sleep. "This ain't none of your business anyway."

He felt Carol's hand leave his body, glancing down to now see it resting in her lap. Guilt swam over him like a tidal wave. The woman was his friend, not meaning anything harmful by her words and yet he had acted as if he took offense to it. Perhaps it was because the thought of love scared him. For years he was under the belief that it was impossible for anyone to love him. For him to be able to love. And now there was Beth. His wife. The mother to his unborn child. How was he supposed to describe his feelings for her now? None of it made sense to him.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled. "I ain't mean nothin' by it. I just...I ain't no good with words. Barely passed English in grade school," he smirked, the muscles in his mouth aching from lack of sleep. "I don't know what to say."

"We all struggle with certain things," Carol agreed, meeting his gaze for a second time. "I think you'll eventually figure it out."

Daryl was about to reply when soft moan interrupted his train of thought. Immediately his stare fell to Beth, watching with a mixture of relief and worry as her brow furrowed, eyes slowly opening to reveal a glazed over expression as she eyed him and Carol both with confusion. The archer sighed, thanking whatever deity there was for her consciousness as he returned his attention to his partner.

"Hey," he murmured. "How're you feelin'?"

"Achy," the girl mumbled, closing her eyes briefly as she inhaled. "The baby..."

"Gotta worry about you first," Daryl replied, unsure of the true answer to Beth's question. "You're sick."

"I'll get her some water," Carol whispered, leaving Daryl to tend to Beth momentarily alone.

"How long have I been out?" Her words were slurred, slowed as she reclined before him. "I didn't hold-"

"No," he assured her. "No, it's been a few hours. You ain't holdin' nobody up and it don't matter if you did. You're what's important, I don't give a rat's ass about Rick's plan or Abraham's intentions to protect Eugene. I only..." his voice trailed off. "You gettin' better is what is most important."

Beth's eyes locked on his own, a moment of silence shared between them before Carol returned with a plastic bag full of water. Gingerly, she tipped the contents into the girl's mouth, Beth gratefully downing the liquid before coughing as some slipped down her windpipe. Daryl helped her sit up, patting her back as she struggled to regain control of her breathing.

"I'm fine," she replied, tone hoarse before Daryl could ask her. "I'm...okay."

A few minutes passed before Daryl finally allowed his hand to slip from her back, Beth shooting him a reassuring look. She looked ill, exhausted. Her face drawn, cheeks still rosy against her pale complexion. But she was awake. Alive. Deep down he knew she'd be, but he still found himself utterly concerned over her. Carol's words replaying in his mind as Beth's fingers intertwined with his own.

"Have you slept?" She asked, concern filling her own tone. "At all?"

He merely shrugged, glancing away from her and towards the deeper part of the woods. If he admitted to himself he was exhausted, that would make the need for sleep that much more desirable. But being awake, being able to keep an eye on Beth seemed far more important. The girl was strong, she had proved that numerous times. But if something happened to her, he'd never be able to forgive himself.

"I had a dream," she murmured, clearly deciding not to press the other matter further. "I suppose it was a fever dream, but it seemed so real."

"Oh," Daryl mumbled, playing with Carol's fire stick. "...What was it about?"

"Us," she stated, her voice soft as she glanced over at Carol, the woman returning the bag to its rightful spot. "And the baby. We lived in a house and...well, I'm not too sure, but I don't think the outbreak ever happened. You were playin' with it, I couldn't tell if it was a boy or girl, it was so young. But it was happy. We were happy. It was a good dream..." her voice trailed off. "Made wakin' up almost disappointin'."

He was silent for a moment. "Glad it was a good dream," he finally decided.

She nodded her head thoughtfully, her gaze meeting his. Silence fell between them once more and Daryl found himself struggling to find the words to break it. Beth's consciousness seemed slowly to be slipping from her once more, her body leaning against his. Awkwardly he let his arm slip around her, feeling slightly embarrassed that he wasn't much good at the whole idea of soothing someone else in their time of need.

"I find myself thinkin' about him a lot," she commented, resting her hand on the slope of her small stomach. "The baby?"

"Yeah..." Daryl mumbled, his voice trailing of momentarily. "What if he don't like me?"

Confusion flooded across Beth's features. "What?"

"It's a reasonable assumption," The archer muttered. "It ain't like the men in my life have been that good. How can you be certain he won't grow up to hate me? I ain't much of a man, that can't translate well into being a father."

"He won't hate you," Beth replied, her voice filled with certainty. "How could he?"

Daryl shrugged, his attention adverting from Beth as he focused on the fire. He could feel her eyes watching him, a sensation he found most unpleasant. Slowly he felt her fingers tighten around his own, oxygen filling his lungs as he inhaled deeply. His own father had been far from kind to him, he had the scars on his back to prove it. But now, the idea of impending fatherhood despite what little joy he managed to find in it, absolutely terrified him. He was not his father. Despite how many times he reminded himself of that, the pain and worry that he would become such still lingered in his mind.

"He'll love you," Beth promised. "Or she. How could they not? I..." her voice trailed off. "I..."

Beth's words were immediately silenced by a low growl that emanated from the edge of the forest. Without warning, Daryl and Beth watched in horror as several walkers staggered forward, mouths twisted into inhuman snarls as they made their way towards the group. Immediately, the archer was to his feet, crossbow gripped in his hands as he looked to Beth, watching as she, despite her condition, managed to scramble upward due to adrenaline.

"Hey," he shouted to the others, stepping back with Beth behind him. "Wake up! Walkers!"

The group slowly roused, only to immediately come to their senses at the sight of the creatures. Daryl let an arrow pierce the skull of one that leered too close to Eugene, the man yelping as he scrambled backwards. Rick was already at his feet, gun posed as he began to take down the herd as they stumbled in left and right. Daryl's heart pounded, eyes fixated on both the danger and Beth behind him as he continued to allow his arrows to free themselves from his crossbow.

And as the group of the walking corpses thinned, the archer's attention momentarily distracted, it was then he heard the shrill cry of terror. He whipped around, an arm extended out to block Beth as he could only watch in horror as a walker sunk its teeth, jowls hanging from its body, into the side of Duane's arm.

**I promise once exams are over, chapters will be around 3,000-4,000 words long instead of 2,500. Beth is still very much ill, but adrenalin can help you in situations such as unexpected walker attacks. Feedback is greatly loved and appreciated, keeps the chapters coming frequently. And if this hits 1,000 reviews today, I will post a second chapter either late tonight or early tomorrow morning! Double chapter time! Anyway, I hope you enjoyed! Until next time! -Jen**


	25. Chapter twenty four

**Over a THOUSAND reviews! You guys are so amazing! I teared up a bit this morning when I saw! Alrighty, enough of my blabbering, huge and mountainous means of thanks to StephMcG, Dixongurl, Mione788, sammxhill, sillymommy2010, sportschick44, mellymoo13, LitLover1228, jeanf, Natercia, kristelalugo, DarylDixon'sLover, dee22dee, asseylum, xX-LadyScarlettDixon-Xx, engineergirl86, Guest, lulu52, brady66, hmatlock, Reignashii, LegoMama014, krysx3, Ayame2004, orayofsunshine, kevkye, lola0812, MamaDCB, Spoonlicker, heatherrk, malzateb, Solunalux, TWDFan05, TWDfan0001, Merry Beaker Fractale, Anara, Joise, Dixonshipster, Sydmherman, Fremione-lover16, missy7293, Tania Ibarbia, daylightspeaks, Guest, hardygirl87, Scifigirl22, katiegirl99, Cat, Kris2495, ArtGirlie815, gwenstacy, Ela, An Amber Pen, and ciprianoivashkov for your incredible, always motivating and inspiring feedback messages! Now for that promised next chapter!**

Chapter twenty four:

For a moment, everything went numb, the only sound filling the archer's ears being his own thrumming heart beat. The walker struggled, tugging at the flesh of the teenager's arm as his father lunged forward, burying the blade of his knife in the creature's skull before it could tear a reasonable chunk from the boy's arm. Duane was screaming, voice cracking as he gripped his wounded arm, the bite far too up for an amputation to do any good. His mother hurried forward, her own voice edging on hysterics as she held her son close, trying to stop the bleeding with what pressure her own grip could produce.

"It isn't that bad," Morgan tried to argue, noticing Abraham was reaching for his own weapon. "It broke the skin, but it isn't bad!"

"He's a danger to us all," spat the military man. "I ain't gonna let the lives of my family be endangered because some kid-"

"That kid is my son!" Morgan growled, stepping forward to shield his quivering son and wife. "And I'm not about to let anythin' happen to him!"

It was clear the argument was about to become more than confrontational. For the first time since the archer had known him, Morgan displayed an anger like none Daryl had seen. His fingers wrapped around the hilt of the grimy knife, eyes fixated on the red haired man as Rosita and his three daughters found themselves nudged back. He could hear Beth breathing heavily beside him, her hand resting on his arm as if she were uncertain what the outcome would be. His own mind raced, hand reaching absently for his crossbow as Rick stepped forward, hands extended as he advanced slowly to the other men.

"He's a kid," the sheriff said slowly. "We bandage him up. See how he holds out. There's enough of us that if somethin'..." his voice trailed off as he caught the horrified look in Jenny's eyes. "We can handle this."

"He's been bit!" Abraham nearly shouted. "You know what fuckin' happens! There ain't no cure! He's gonna goddamn turn and put the rest-"

"You don't know that," Rick argued, though his tone was far from reassuring. "We take care of our own, alright?"

Rick stood unmoved between Morgan and Abraham, the soldier's chest rising and falling heavily as he stared into the sheriff's calm expression. Finally, after what seemed like minutes, the man heaved a sigh. Mouth twisted into a frown, he glanced behind him, Rosita staring back with solemn expression, one daughter in her arms, the other two gripping her pant's legs. They seemed frightened and Daryl could not blame them. When his own father had experienced any sort of rage, he too as a child had been scared. But Abraham, if knowing him vaguely for the last several months, had taught him anything, despite the man's rage, he'd never touch a hair on any of their heads, nor his wife's.

"We'll do this your way," Abraham agreed. "But if shit goes down-"

"I'll take the fall," Rick agreed, his eyes glancing to the other members of the group. "Amy, can you wrap Duane's arm? We should get movin', It ain't safe here anymore."

Dawn had just begun to break over the horizon, lighting the sky in a glow of coral pinks and orange as the group moved onward. Every so often, Daryl found himself glancing back to Duane and his parents. They moved slower than the rest of the group, Jenny's arms wrapped around her son's good arm as they pressed on. The boy seemed pale, tired, but other than that, his outward appearance was normal, arm now crudely bandaged by the makeshift nurse that Andrea's sister was.

"I was hopin' the nausea would settle down once I got past the first few months," Beth's voice murmured, breaking the archer's train of thought. "But I guess my stomach has other plans."

Beth too still sported her pallor features, cheeks a deeper shade of red the further they walked. Daryl's mind, though concerned about Duane, was more focused on his own wife's well being. Beth needed rest. Medicine. And with being in the middle of nowhere, the forest finally breaking into an empty, grass laden field, nothing of the sort was readily available. He inhaled deeply, eyes turning to briefly meet his wife's before he knelt down, adjusting the crossbow so it hung more on the front of his chest.

"Hop on."

"What?" Beth asked, her voice filled with confusion. "A piggyback?"

"Yeah," he mumbled, ignoring the few stares from the group members who noticed. "A serious piggyback, get on."

She seemed hesitant at first, her eyes meeting his momentarily as if searching for any sign that it was a joke. Finally, she relented, gingerly wrapping her arms around his neck as she clambered on. Daryl grunted softly, lifting her up as he locked his own arms around her legs. She was heavier than he had expected, but that wasn't something he felt was a good idea to comment on. Inhaling, he began to walk, following the others as they moved through the empty field, sunlight beginning to heat the air around them.

"It's beginnin' to feel like Texas out here," Eugene muttered, fanning himself with his hand. "Back at base, we scientists had a huge air conditioner. Used to joke that we'd be able to get the temperature in the lab down to below freezin' if we tried. Sure we could too."

"I've never been to Texas," Beth replied when no one else did. "Was it nice there?"

"Little lady, Texas is the only nice place," Abraham grunted, his words seeming almost friendly. "Best part of the south. Everythin's bigger in Texas."

"I can contest to that," Rosita replied, smirking softly as she eyed her husband.

Daryl rolled his eyes, not wanting to even imagine Abraham, or any of the other men in the group for that matter, stark naked. As they continued on, the sun only seemed to get hotter, sweat trickling down the archer's brow as he shifted Beth on his back. Her arms felt wet around his neck, her own perspiration mixing with his own creating the unbearable feeling of moisture and stickiness as they moved through the seemingly endless rolling field.

"We should stop for water," Andrea suggested, her own breathing sounding labored as she adjusted a fussy Thomas in her arms. "The children need it."

"Just a few more miles," Rick mumbled, pointing a head. "I can see a road from here."

"We won't make it a few more miles unless we stop for a drink," Carol rebuked, looking to the unappointed leader in seriousness. "We need to stop."

The sheriff sighed, finally nodding his head in relent as the group came to a halt. Bags and bottles of water were passed about, some tasting of dirt and pine needles as most were collected from the previous night's rain. Beth slid from Daryl's back, a hand resting on her swell as she sat down beside him, drinking a few sips before passing it to her dehydrated husband. As Daryl drank, he noticed Jenny and Morgan sitting a little further from the group. Duane leaned against his mother, eyes seemingly heavy as his breathing continued laboriously.

"How's he holdin' up?" The archer questioned, looking to the other man.

"Hangin' in there," Morgan replied, his hand resting on his son's knee. "He's a strong boy. Duane's been through worse. Had pneumonia as a toddler."

Daryl nodded, knowing that Morgan knew well enough that this disease was nothing to compare to the other. He turned back to Beth, his eyes meeting his wife's as she passed him a small bag of nuts that had been handed about the group. There were only a few left, Beth's palm only holding around five or six herself. He merely shook his head, muttering for her to take his portion as he glanced towards the thin, winding road off in the distance. Maybe there was a car or a bus that still had gas. One could only hope.

"You need to eat."

Beth's voice filled Daryl's ears. Though her tone was soft, it still held a reasonable amount of seriousness. He turned, eyes falling to her hand where she held out a few almonds. They certainly weren't much, a mouthful at that, but the protein was good enough to give anyone that slight boost they needed. A boost that Beth needed more than he did. He frowned, shaking his head as he went to adjust his crossbow strings.

"Ain't hungry," he muttered. "Heat gets to me easily."

"Which is all the more reason you need somethin' in your system," she argued. "It isn't much, but we all need to eat."

Daryl exhaled, frowning as he accepted the small handful of nuts from his wife. "Don't like em anyway," he muttered, tossing the stale bits into his mouth.

They sat in silence for a little while longer, only to have it interrupted by the sounds of Duane's heavy breathing. He slumped against his mother, eyes barely open as Jenny held him close. His skin had turned a sickly shade of white against his otherwise dark complexion. Saliva crusted itself around the corners of his mouth as he lulled in and out of consciousness. Rick looked to the parents in empathy, inhaling deeply as he opened his mouth to speak.

"No," Morgan interrupted. "He's fine, we just need more time-"

"Morgan," Rick said quietly. "He's just about gone."

Daryl felt Beth's fingers tighten around his own when Jenny let out a pitiful moan, arms tightening around her dying son. Tears slipped down her cheeks, her body trembling as she held the boy close, shaking her head. Morgan's own eyes watered, mouth pulled into a tight, thin line as he looked from his wife and only son back to Rick and the others. It was clear he understood, despite his desperate desire not to.

"He's gone," the sheriff repeated quietly. "He won't feel a thing."

Morgan merely shook his head. "I can't do it," he whispered. "I can't...you can't expect me to..."

"I'll do it," Jenny's voice replied, the woman peering up with a tear streaked face. "I'm his mother. It's only right that I..." her voice trailed off, the woman swallowing hard. "I want to do it."

Rick nodded, fumbling around to locate his gun. With Morgan's help, Jenny stood up, Duane limp in her arms as she carried him further off from the group. Daryl tried to advert his eyes, not wishing to watch what was about to occur. Gingerly, as any mother would, Jenny laid her son on the ground, Rick's gun trembling in her hand. Even at the distance she was, Daryl could see her reconsidering her actions. Slowly, she raised the gun up, Daryl adverting his eyes to meet Beth's as he waited for the gunfire.

"Jenny!" Morgan cried out, causing Daryl to turn.

To the archer's horror, the end of the gun was now pointed into the woman's mouth. Without warning, she pulled the trigger, the gun dropping from her hand as she crumpled onto the ground in the nearby distance. Daryl looked on in complete shock, Morgan's cries of despair sounding distant as he looked to the spot where the once lively woman stood, body now resting beside her dying boy.

"Oh god," Beth whispered, her fingers tightening around Daryl's. "Jenny, no!"

Morgan was on his hands and knees, fingers digging into the dirt as sobs racked the usually calm man's body. Daryl looked on, unable to move as Beth now stood beside him, a hand on his shoulder as they watched the scene unfold. None of this was fair. The whole world had gone to shit and after coming so far, so damn far, Morgan had lost his entire family. A rattling breath escaped the archer, Beth's fingers gripping his shoulder.

The circle of life was nothing more than a shit of an idea. Something that only now, Daryl Dixon was beginning to realize.

**So yes, I sort of got Jenny's death idea from the Walking Dead game series for those who have played. I won't say which scene for those who wish to play (which I highly recommend). I have a lot of bethyl planned for the next chapter as well as some time passing (it's about time we moved further along into Beth's pregnancy). So feedback is greatly loved and appreciated! Keeps the updates coming! Let me know your thoughts! Until next update, folks! -Jen**


	26. Chapter twenty five

**SHORT CHAPTER DUE TO EXAMS TODAY! You guys are truly amazing, did you know that? Again due to exams, this is a shorter chapter. But as promised, there is a big bethyl moment and I will continue to update daily if time permits. Alrighty, much thanks to LitLover1228, DarylDixon'sLover, Dixongurl, kevkye, Kim, MamaDCB, Spoonlicker, sillymommy2010, JCS2014, Scifigirl22, heatherrk, Mhilano, Ela, Jackiemgomez, ledanna, GabbyAbby, engineergirl86, malzeteb, jcolunga96, mellymoon13, Guest, kristelalugo, Mione788, hardygirl87, rckyfrk, cherrywineBA, LerruceBFrank, Peeca151, TWDFan05, Joise, FluffyTwinkies, Reignashii, Ayame2004, gwenstacy, Natercia, Maykits, TWDfan0001, shanweener, An Amber Pen, crimsonrose0003, and BurrSquee for your wonderful, very motivating reviews! Now onward, my fellow folks, to the next chapter!**

Chapter twenty five:

Days became weeks, the vibrant leaves of autumn becoming dark crusts of their once lively forms, falling to the ground in an almost somber manner. The deaths of Jenny and Duane had taken a toll on the group, especially on Morgan. The man hadn't spoken much since the incident, his sanity barely intact now as the party ventured northward into the tendrils of winter. It took much convincing to keep the man alive, meals mostly forced onto him rather than willingly accepted. But Rick was adamant on making sure everyone survived, despite the outcomes that had befallen the group.

Beth's pregnancy had advanced significantly since the journey's start, one only able to assume she had entered the middle of her second trimester. Her swell was prominent underneath the now tight garments she sported, outfits becoming scarce and more form fitting the further along she got. She was strong however, not complaining much despite her weakening state due to the Lyme Disease. Medicine was unreachable now and some nights, she struggled to remain in control of the bile and other fluids that threatened to erupt from her sensitive stomach. Daryl worried. He worried constantly and nothing Beth said seemed to soothe his concerns.

"Have some soup, Morgan," Beth murmured, pressing a cup of tomato broth into the man's hands. "It's good."

The man didn't reply, only allowed his fingers to tighten around the offered meal. Beth's mouth curved into an empathetic smile, a hand resting on his knee before she returned to Daryl's side at the fire. Her husband met her eyes, scooting over slightly as he handed her a worn cup of her own meal that seemed a little more full than she had left it. She threw him a look, the corners of her mouth twitching into a small frown as she accepted it. Nevertheless she drank gratefully, the warm liquid feeling sensational as it slid down her throat and into her empty stomach.

"He took it from me this time," Beth said, meeting her husband's stare. "I didn't have to force him."

Daryl nodded, eyes flickering over to the other man. Morgan merely stared down at his soup, occasionally bringing the liquid to his lips and taking a small sip. There was a good chance he wouldn't finish it, despite the hunger he surely was feeling. But any little bit they could get him to eat was better than nothing at all. Inhaling, his attention returned to Beth, his own cup abandoned at his side as the murmurs between other group members met his ears.

"How're you feelin'," he inquired, gaze locking on her own.

"Hangin' in there," she admitted, her smile weak as she pressed a hand to her stomach. "Exhausted."

"You can sleep soon," he promised. "Don't think Rick's gonna make us move much more tonight."

She exhaled, nodding her head as she relaxed against him. Her skin didn't feel as warm as it normally did, something Daryl was grateful for. At least she wasn't currently feverish. Supplies were low and with what little water they had, it was far from enough to use for any other reason than drinking. His eyes traveled down, watching as her hand rested on the apex of her abdomen as it rose and fell with each breath.

"Looks like we're forty or so miles away from the Mississippi Alabama line," Rick muttered, eyeing the map in the firelight. "Maybe'll take us a week or so to get into the state, dependin' on how the walkers are."

"Why don't we just head north into Tennessee?" Abraham cut in, Emilia fast asleep in his lap. "Don't it make more sense jus' to keep headin' north?"

Rick shook his head, "Millage is a lot longer, might take us a month rather than a week or two if we do that." His attention returned to the map, finger trailing across the tattered paper as he squinted against the soft light. "If we cut through Alabama and go through Georgia, I think we'll be able to eventually find a route straight into D.C with only needin' to go through a few more states."

The soldier frowned, not seeming that intent on the sheriff's plan. But much to Daryl's relief, the red haired man didn't argue, merely turned his attention back to his daughter. The archer looked to Beth, noticing that her eyes were beginning to close. With the warmth from the fire, it was hard not to submit to the impending exhaustion that plagued them all. He adjusted himself, letting Beth's body lean more onto him as his eyes fixated on the fire, watching the pops of embers that ignited from the flames.

"Oh!" Beth suddenly exclaimed, her body stiffening against the archer's.

Daryl's attention immediately snapped back to his wife, thoughts swirling in his mind as he met her eyes. The most curious expression had appeared on the girl's face, her hand pressing more firmly down on her stomach. She fell silent, eyes locked on her abdomen as she waited. Then, after a moment, her mouth curved into one of the most wide smiles that archer had ever seen. Before he could ask, Beth had gripped his hand, resting it over the spot where her hand had been just previous located.

"What?" Daryl questioned, searching her expression for an answer. "What's-"

It was then that he felt it, though light, something moved against his palm. He inhaled sharply, a feeling bubbling up in his chest as he felt it move again. The baby. He looked to Beth, meeting the excited expression that now illuminated her face. She laughed, though softly, as she pressed her hand over top of his. For the first time in months, they actually had confirmation that their baby was alive. That it was alright.

"That's him," she beamed. "I haven't felt him movin' about until now. But..." her voice trailed off as she swallowed thickly. "He's okay."

Daryl struggled to find the words to reply. Though he wasn't already a man of words, he found it now harder to create a statement to correspond with what was happening than he ever had. This was his child. His offspring. And for the first time, he had felt it move. Though lightly, it was clearly there. Living. Thriving. And it was a thought that both truly terrified and excited him. He breathed in through his nose, meeting Beth's gaze. As he was about to reply, a sound from behind caused his mouth to quickly close.

Without warning, a woman stepped forward, a sword posed as she eyed the group fiercely. Her skin was dark, hair held back in dread as her dark eyes scanned the people that sat around the fire. From behind, two more figures stepped beside her, another woman and a man. Daryl reached for his bow, uncertain if these people were friendly or dangerous as Beth's expression suddenly morphed into one of absolute shock.

"Maggie?!"

**First, finally we begin to meet "Rick's group". Secondly, I am seriously debating whether to have Hershel in this story or not. Please let me know if you'd like him because I'm very indecisive. Due to this being so short, I may update again tonight, but I may instead update "Nurture Against Nature" which is another bethyl baby story of mine. So let me know which update you'd prefer to see tonight. Anyway, feedback is greatly loved and appreciated, I'd love to know your thoughts for those two questions I just posted. Until later on tonight! -Jen**


	27. Chapter twenty six

**Again, huge thanks for bearing with the short chapters during exam week. I like to try to update every day, so the shortness should be over by Tuesday when my exams have ended. Alright, as usual, a wave of gratitude to NanamiYatsumaki, sillymommy2010, ArtGirlie815, rebecca taylor (happy birthday, dear), brady66, LitLover1228, cherrywineBA, StephMcG, Dixongurl, Mhilano, AnnMarie318, karaburnes, Erika, kristelalugo, kevkye, lulu52, rckyfrk, DarylDixon'sLover, Guest, redhead36a, Mione788, ledanna, Spoonlicker, malzateb, VioletWonderland, Natercia, enginerrgirl86, Crisphe, LettuceBFrank, hardygirl87, gwenstacy, asseylum, Joise, rippedjeans, GabbyAbby, jeanf, and lena for your super, always motivating feedback messages! Time for the next chapter!**

Chapter twenty six:

The surprise that slipped into the other woman's features was a look that had been almost identical to Beth's. Without warning, the girl stood up, much faster than she'd otherwise be able to as she collided midway with the stranger. The woman's arms tightened around her, her face buried into Beth's shoulder as visible tears slipped down her cheeks, glistening in the light of the fire. Daryl, still unnerved and stunned, found himself looking to Rick, the man looking equally as shocked but surprisingly excited. Was it possible that he knew the three figures?

"I thought you were dead," the woman-Maggie-murmured, face still pressed to Beth's shoulder. "When you disappeared, Daddy and I...we thought..." She shook her head, inhaling wetly as her arms tightened around the girl's frame. "I missed you so much!"

"I missed you too," Beth whispered, sounding choked up herself. "Is Daddy..."

"He's alright," Maggie confirmed, though there was hesitation in her tone. "He's back at base camp with the others. We were...we were comin' lookin' for food, we're runnin' low on rations and..." her eyes traveled down to Beth's swell, finally taking in her sister's condition after the initial introduction. "Beth..."

The corners of Beth's mouth curled into a gentle smile as she glanced back towards Daryl. The archer adverted his gaze, glancing towards the ground as his supposed sister-in-law stared at him curiously, putting two and two together before returning her attention back to the girl. Maggie inhaled sharply, a sound Daryl recognized was more filled with anger than it was joy. It was clear, even from his inability to tell people's emotions, that the woman was unhappy with him.

"Did he..."

"No," Beth assured her. "It was...consensual. He's my husband."

"Your," he felt Maggie's eyes boring into the back of his neck as he sheepishly picked at the twigs around his feet. "Your husband?!"

"There's a lot we need to catch up on," Beth agreed, moving toward Daryl to rest her hand on his shoulder. "But I think maybe...maybe we could come back with you to base?" Beth turned around, noticing that dark skinned woman had moved to embrace Rick, their greeting seeming a little more than just friendly. "I think it'd do us all some good to have a safe sleep for a night."

"We jus' meet these people," Abraham frowned, looking to Rick for guidance. "How can we trust-"

"I know them," he assured the soldier. "And clearly I ain't the only one. I can contest that they're safe. Um...proper introductions though." He motioned to the first woman, the one who had previously been bearing a sword. "Michonne," the woman nodded once. "Glenn," the man, his smile seeming far too giddy upon seeing Rick waved. "And Maggie." He paused, looking out towards the woods as if half expecting to see someone else. "Hershel, Tyreese, and Karen?"

"At our base," Glenn explained, his eyes traveling to meet Maggie's. "There was an...incident...but Hershel's healing up nicely. We thought it best to leave the others to watch over him. It isn't much, just a cabin we found. But the door's a heavy wood and the windows are mostly boarded up. We've been there for a few days now, waiting on Hershel to feel well enough to travel."

"What happened?" Rick asked, looking to Glenn in concern.

The man seemed to chew on his lip nervously, inhaling as he let his gaze leave the other group members and solely lock on Rick's. "Walker," he explained. "Got his leg good but we were able to...to remove the damage before anything set in."

Daryl could see Beth pale in the dim light of the fire, her fingers tightening on his shoulder. Morgan seemed to flinch at the words, his cup of soup forgone as he gazed unfocused into the fire. The archer reached up and touched his wife's hand, looking to Rick as the sheriff nodded. Rick inhaled, taking Judith from his son's arms as he looked at the rest of his group.

"We can be safe for the night," he explained. "Bein' inside is better than bein' out here. I ain't gonna force anyone to come, but I suggest we go with them."

Silence fell over the group as the members looked to one another. Slowly, one by one every person began to stand. Beth met Daryl's gaze as he rose, their eyes locking onto one another as soft mutters of agreement began to spout from the mouths of some people. He felt Beth's hand reach down and take his own, his fingers intertwining with hers as she inhaled.

"You'll come?"

"I'd follow you anywhere," he agreed, feeling a little silly over how overly romantic it sounded. "Let's get goin'."

"Camp's a few miles from here," Maggie explained as she led the group onward. "It'll be a tight squeeze with this many people. But the better to become friendly, I guess."

For once, it was nice not being one of the few who sported a weapon as Daryl noted Maggie's pistol as they continued to walk through the darkness. It was a starless sky that night, the moon occasionally breaking through the clouds as they moved down the makeshift trail deeper into the forest. Maybe if the place was good and they could hold out for a few days, perhaps he could hunt some squirrel or maybe some possum or raccoon during the night. Food was running scarce now, and with the newest members of their group being added, gathering food would become more important now than ever.

"How'd you get separated," Beth asked quietly, looking to her sister. "From Rick?"

"Just happened," she mumbled, her tone sounding as if she weren't pleased with Beth's current state. "Same as it was back at the farmhouse."

"A herd?" Her younger sister inquired, not seeming to notice or perhaps care at her older sister's concern. "Was that when Daddy-"

"No," Maggie interrupted. "That was much later. No, the herd was back in one of the cities. Ain't sure which one, but we got separated. It was sizable and we just lost track..." There was a moment of pause, Maggie falling silent for a few seconds before she continued. "How far along are you?"

"Four maybe five months," Beth estimated, her fingers tightening around Daryl's. "Felt him kick for the first time today. Must've known you were comin'."

Maggie did not laugh, merely kept walking as Michonne took a few strides forward and took out a walker Daryl hadn't even noticed in front of them. He exhaled, feeling vulnerable in such darkness despite being a hunter himself. His mind was so tightly wound around Beth and her well being, that he sometimes let himself in his surroundings disappear. Cracking his neck, he continued to follow his wife's sister, noticing the faintest glow from a small structure ahead.

"Like I said," Maggie continued as they approached the clearly small, made for perhaps two people cottage. "It ain't made for a parade."

The woman rapped on the door three times, the entrance slowly creaking open. A dark skinned man peered out, his face quizzical as he took in the sight of the crowd behind Maggie. She muttered something about explaining it later as he opened the door further, the group of people beginning to file in slowly as they squeezed into the tight space that was the open kitchen and living room.

"How's daddy?" Maggie asked, looking to the man Daryl could only assume was Tyreese.

"Sleeping," the man confirmed. "Karen and I were just making dinner, wasn't expecting you guys to bring company..."

"Blame Rick," she replied, mouth curving into a small smile as she thumbed back at the sheriff, watching the other man's eyes widen in surprise. "Found him out in the woods. Seems like he replaced us."

"Could never do that," Rick mused, stepping forward to shake the stunned man's hand. "Judith's missed you."

Daryl watched as Beth glanced around the room, her eyes landing on an unlit entrance that appeared to be a bedroom. Without saying a word, Daryl found himself being led towards the entrance, slipping inside of it behind Beth as they entered the dark room. A figure lay barely visible on what appeared to be a bed, his face drawn, whiskers long as his chest rose up and down in even, deep breaths. Beth inhaled, her fingers uncurling from Daryl's as she moved to the old man's side. Slowly, the man began to rouse, his eyes opening as he blinked in the darkness, gaze adjusting on the girl.

"Beth?" He whispered, voice sounding both hoarse and confused. "Am I dreamin'?"

"No, Daddy," Beth whispered, her voice sounding close to tears. "It's me. I'm really here."

The old man reached towards her, arms outstretched as he pulled his daughter into a hug. Beth knelt down, burying her face in her father's chest as they embraced. Daryl watched quietly from nearby, his arms folded over his chest. Finally Beth had been reunited with her family. The slightest amount of happiness in a dark time. As the archer looked on, feeling grateful for his wife's happiness, the naivety of it all masked over the impending doom that was certain to follow.

**First, I think I can fit a bethyl intimate scene in next chapter if ya'll would be interested in something like that *insert winky face*. Also I have so much planned, so much stuff that I want to happen, I cannot wait to be able to write it. Of course, my most maniacal stuff won't come until later. As usual, feedback is greatly loved and appreciated! I'd love to know your thoughts for this chapter! I'll try to update again tomorrow if I get enough of a response to motivate me to do so. But if not, keep an eye out for Saturday. Again, I promise longer chapters once exams are over. Until next time! -Jen**


	28. Chapter twenty seven

**Another update! Woot woot! I hope people aren't bored of this story because I update so much. Anyway, a wave of gratitude to DarylDixon'sLover, Sillymommy2010, malzeteb, rebecca taylor, Spoonlicker, sammxhill, Mione788, jeanf, maykits, Guest, sergensaf, kristelalugo, dee22dee, rckyfrk, heathrrk, Tania Ibarbia, Scifigirl22, angelicedg, xX-LadyScarlettDixon-Xx, cd291104, engineergirl86, Joise, kevkye, BurrSquee, Crisphe, Guest, TWDobsession, StephMcG, sportschick44, Peeca151, GabbyAbby, gwenstacy, hardygirl87, guest, ArtieGirlie185, Reignashii, and crimsonrose0003 for your wonderful, incredible messages of feedback! Now for the next chapter!  
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Chapter twenty seven:

Unconsciousness had slipped through the cracks of the old cabin, washing over several of the residents inside. Most were crammed into the main room, curled in amongst each other as space was near to nonexistent. Daryl and Beth had been granted the luxury of staying in Hershel's room, a perk, the archer realized, of his wife being pregnant. The floor, though wooden, had far more space than the rest of the living quarters currently. Sharing only a blanket, he lay there on the floor, Beth's head resting on his chest as silence fell between them, it only being interrupted by the occasional snores from his father-in-law.

"Whatcha thinkin' 'bout?" Daryl murmured, his voice low as not to wake Hershel. "Lot happened today."

"Maggie and Daddy," she breathed, the warmth of her breath tickling the sensitive skin of his throat. "I always assumed that they were..." she inhaled, mouth curving into a smile as she lifted her head up just slightly. "Did you mean what you said?"

He looked at her, brow furrowed. "Bout what?"

"About following me anywhere," she replied, her blue eyes glistening in what little light seeped in. "Back at the fire pit?"

He shrugged, mouth somewhat pursed. "Long as it ain't off of a cliff or somethin'," he muttered. "I ain't much when it comes to swimmin'."

She smiled, the expression warm as she pressed a chaste kiss to his mouth. He stiffened, not expecting such a gesture, but soon allowed himself to submit to the intimacy. Her fingers traveled down to the fabric of his dirtied vest, tugging softly at the fabric as her lips continued to move against his. Momentarily, he pulled away, turning his head to look towards Hershel. It seemed wrong to slip into such an act in the presence of another. Even more so when the figure happened to be his wife's father.

"He's a sound sleeper," he heard Beth murmur. "It'll be alright."

It had been so long since either of them had been intimate. The struggles of dealing with the walkers and running, constantly on the move. Quietly he allowed himself to slip out of his garments, helping Beth with hers as his gaze briefly locked on the closed door. He inhaled, breath cut short when her mouth met his once more, fingers trailing down his chest as she continued to kiss him. This was far more fervent than any love making they had done before. Beth seeming more desperate than him as if her hormones played a major part in the sudden, onset need for sex.

His fingers slipped past the fabric of her underwear, running across the swollen folds of her womanhood. It wasn't as if they had many other options when it came to privacy. He remembered clearly a night or two where Abraham and Rosita had slipped into a more romantic mindset whilst they were supposed to be keeping guard. He pressed two fingers passed the entrance, feeling her stiffen as it entered into her. She was already so wet, he felt his own pants feel increasingly smaller as he began to pump, her face pressed to his shoulder.

Her grunts were soft, breathing erratic as he allowed another finger to enter her. His digits curled, thrusting against her core as he felt her own hand slip down past his waistband. The archer stiffened as he felt her fingers grip around the shaft of his manhood, tightening as his pumping began to slow down due to his surprise. He looked to her, unable to find the right words as she offered a small smile, her cheeks clearly flushed despite what small light there was.

Daryl inhaled sharply when her thumb ran over the head of his cock, her fingers delicate and yet, had a force to them that he had yet to experience. He muttered her name, the word coming out in a deep, throaty tone as she began to pump slowly, movements awkward at first before she grew more rhythmic. His heart was pounding, pent up emotion raw and heavy with each thrust. This love making was not brought on my sadness or force. This time, there was something joyous about it. And he could feel it, deep and twisting in his center, writhing to be set free.

His mouth pressed against Beth's, the kiss more aggressive than any they had yet to share as they shifted positions, her hand regretfully leaving him so she could momentarily remove the rest of her clothing. He entered her soon after, hands tightening around her hips as he thrust into her, doing his best to be mindful of both the hard ground and her current state. He felt her fingers dig into his shoulder blades, her back arching in pleasure as he struck the spot that was most sensitive.

As he met her gaze, he noticed her teeth digging into her bottom lip. At first, he feared that he was causing her pain, but realized soon enough that she was trying to keep from crying out. He placed his mouth onto hers, the faintest taste of blood meeting his tongue as they kissed. Sex was such a curious thing. Fucking. Love making. Whatever generic name one chose to call it. Despite not showing much romance otherwise, in seconds they could be far more intimate than they had in weeks. Months even.

"Daryl," he heard her whisper, her voice shaking. "I can't..."

"It's alright," he mumbled, voice husky. "Jus' let go."

She came quickly after that, yelping softly as he thrust once more before following suit. They trembled together, bodies sticky with perspiration and the cabin's musky heat as they settled down on the floor. Beth was quivering, her breathing heavy as she panted against him, head resting on his chest. Daryl too found himself out of breath, the sound of Hershel's continuous snoring a comforting indicator that the old man hadn't been roused by their activities.

"Floor's cold," Beth murmured, the first to speak. "It feels nice."

Daryl couldn't help but snort, exhaling as he let his chin rest in the mess of her blonde hair. "I guess I'll take that over nothin' at all."

He could hear Beth's breathing slowing as exhaustion slowly rolled over her in gentle, tide-like waves. He knew her energy was not what it once was, especially since her sickness was still looming over her shoulders. Arms winding around her, hand brushing against the swell of her abdomen, he held her as she drifted away, not bothering to say much else as sleep took her consciousness away for the night. A lot had happened today. Good things, of course. And he was glad for her. Even if his apparent sister-in-law didn't much care for him yet.

"So you and my daughter..."

The voice was low and even still, the unexpected words caught Daryl by surprise. He turned his head, careful not to jostle Beth as he saw, to his horror, that Hershel was staring at him very much awake. He felt the nausea rise in his stomach, embarrassment flooding over him at the thought that perhaps the old man had only pretended to be asleep. That he had just fucked his young daughter while her father was very much, probably disturbingly so, aware of what was happening.

"I..." he struggled for the right words. "I ain't know that..."

"It's fine," he assured him, his voice verging on the side of friendliness. "I've heard a lot worse from Maggie and Glenn." He paused, taking a moment to met the archer's eyes. "I don't think we were properly introduced today. Partly my fault, I'm not feelin' too great after havin' my leg cut off. But hey, I'm alive. Am thankful for that." He inhaled. "I would stand up and shake your hand but I don't got much of a balance right now and I don't wanna disturb Bethy. She needs her sleep."

The archer wasn't too sure what to say. Briefly he and Hershel had spoken when Beth introduced him as her husband, the father less upset-well, at least openly-about the pregnancy despite Beth being his youngest daughter. But with Rick obsessing over plans, and Abraham's urge to get to Washington just as quickly, there hadn't been much time for introductions, especially with Hershel slipping in and out of sleep.

"I don't know you very well, Daryl," he finally said. "And I ain't the best judge of character, not like my wife was. But Beth seems to like you...a lot..." There was a slight uncomfortable tone to his last words. "Now I ain't the man who threatens his girls' men with a shotgun when they come to visit. Not like I once was... I guess what I'm sayin' is, if you ever hurt my daughter, in any way..."

"I won't," Daryl interrupted, his words firm. "Never."

Though it was dark, Daryl could still make out the faint smile that graced the old man's expression. "Well," he breathed. "Though Maggie seems to think otherwise, I say, welcome to the family, son."

Daryl forced a smile onto his features, struggling to express his gratitude at the man's immediate welcoming of his marriage to Beth. It was late, exhaustion already tugging at his mind as he settled back down against the floor, Beth curled against him. The minutes ticked away, Daryl's alertness slowly slipping from his grasp as Hershel's snoring picked back up once more. As he allowed his eyes to close, his slumber was suddenly interrupted by the sounds of someone outside the cabin.

The archer stiffened, sleep slipping away as he looked towards the windowless wall, hearing the faintest sound of several footsteps as they seemed to circle around the building. He could barely make out the conversation, the figures clearly not walkers as the corners of his mouth twitched into a frown. And as the footsteps grew silent, he was finally able to hear somewhat of what was being said. His stomach dropping at the words the man, his voice so recognizable despite being muffled by the building, uttered.

"Burn it down."

**You can probably guess who the man is. Anywho, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I really struggled where to go in the beginning but decided to keep the sex scene in there. Feedback is greatly loved and appreciated, it keeps the updates coming! Again, I promise longer chapters once my exams are up (that will be Tuesday) but I like to try to update every day so even if they're short, at least it's something! Let me know your thoughts! Until next time, folks! -Jen**


	29. Chapter twenty eight

**Woke up super early this morning to write this so I apologize for any spelling or grammatical errors! Huge thanks and virtual embraces to sillymommy2010, DarylDixon'sLover, Dixongurl, cherrywineBA, Ela, Spoonlicker, MamaDCB, Mione788, malzateb, Tania Ibarbia, Natercia, lulu52, Crisphe, angelicedg, TWDFan05, engineergirl86, MaidenAlice, sporkschick44, kristelalugo, heatherrk, TWD, gwenstacy, ledanna, Anara, Guest, Burrsquee, ArtGirlie815, jeanf, TWDobsession, dee22dd, Maykits, LettuceBFrank, rckyfrk, Joise, live-wannabewriter, Guest, bledirishangel, Reignashii, Riain, pisquenta, JKattack, An Amber Pen, stacycoonan, Serialkillingyou, mhuster, SweetSeductionCherryB, Merry Beaker Fractale, and Bluemom for your fantastic, really wonderful to read reviews left for last chapter! Now time to fix that cliffie!**

Chapter twenty eight:

_Burn it down. _

The words replayed in Daryl's mind as he sat up, groping for his clothes and Beth's in the darkness. The noises outside had multiplied, sounding as if they were coming from every angle of the house. Beth mumbled something sleepily, the archer too busy to hear her words as he shook her awake. She gave him a tired, confused expression as he thrust her clothes into her arms, slipping his on in moments as the sound of glass breaking met his ears. Underneath the door, he could see something glowing brightly, a few voices murmuring as they roused from the unexpected interruption. A molotov.

"C'mon," he nearly shouted at Beth, unable to hold in his irritation as she just sat there blankly. "We gotta go!"

"Daryl," sleep was still evident in her tone as she spoke. "What's-"

The explosion that followed next immediately ceased her questioning as flames erupted from the other side of the door. Instinctively, Daryl pulled Beth back, shouts and cries of fright escaping from the rest of the group as the blaze licked hungrily at their closed entrance. The noise had awoken Hershel, the man sitting up despite his weakened condition as he looked to his daughter and son-in-law in astonishment. Beth's nails dug into the archer's forearm as he moved to help her father up, the farmer wobbling as he struggled to stand on his one good leg. It was the first time Daryl had seen his amputation, the limb cut cleanly from the knee down. He heard Beth swallow hard but chose not to press the matter any further. They needed to get out.

"Beth," he called, Hershel's arm wrapped snugly around his shoulder. "Stay behind me!"

Swiping his crossbow from where it rested against the wall, he moved cautiously towards the door. With the back of his hand, he felt the knob, cursing instantly as he yanked it back. Sweltering hot. He inhaled, glancing behind him where Beth stood. Her clothes were wrinkled, expression stiff as met his gaze worriedly. Without thinking of his own safety, he kicked at the door, the old hinges giving as it swung open to reveal the inferno that was located on the other side.

It was as if the whole room had immediately erupted into flames, the glow from the blaze so bright, it caused the archer to squint as he looked for any path out. A figure lay lying on the floor, his form squashed against a corner. Whether he was dead or not, Daryl couldn't tell, but his first priority was his wife and her father. With caution, he walked towards the open entrance, the fire seeming not as strong there. Besides the figure, the room had seemed empty, meaning perhaps Rick and the others had already taken care of their assailants.

"You still with me," he shouted back to Beth.

"Yes," she called. "Daryl, Eugene-"

So it had been Eugene. The feeling that twisted in his gut was sickening. The scientist, or so he claimed, had said he'd known the cure. That once they'd get to D.C, he'd be able to fix this damnation that was the outbreak. Inhaling again, coughing as the smoke filled his lungs, he turned back to Beth. His wife looked to him, her face lit up by the glow of the flames as they crept closer to the three figures. Eugene meant the future of his wife and child. A pass for finally being able to live in safety. Free.

"I'm gonna ask you to do somethin' I wouldn't normally," he explained quickly. "Can you help your father out?"

"Yes," she stated. "But what-"

"I'm gonna help him," he explained. "Rick and the others, they're outside. I need you and your dad out there."

"But you," she argued. "Daryl, you-"

Without thinking, he pressed his mouth to hers, feeling once again silly how ridiculously romantic the scenario was. But if it came down to it, and on the off chance he wouldn't make it out of this alive, he'd damn well regret it in the end if he hadn't. Gingerly, he helped Hershel rest against Beth, the girl seeming to struggle briefly under her father's weight before she got a better hold of him. Daryl could see the teeth baring into her bottom lip as she nodded, mouth pressed firmly together as she moved towards the exit and disappeared out the door.

Once she was safe from the crumbling building, Daryl moved fast towards the far corner. If the figure hadn't yet turned, it very well meant he was still alive. Flames lapping at his heels, Daryl adjusted his crossbow over his shoulder, falling to Eugene's side as the man stared up at him. Shards of glass protruded from his neck, the man's expression frightened as he choked, coughing on his own blood as it bubbled from his lips. The archer's stomach sank, a feeling of failure washing over him. Eugene was dying.

"Mrgh," the man whispered hoarsely, trying to speak despite the blood.

"It's alright," Daryl murmured. "You're gonna be alright."

Eugene took a rasping breath, the mere action seeming to cause him a great deal of pain as he motion Daryl closer. The archer obliged, leaning in so that his ear was nearly pressed against the man's mouth. Softly, Eugene began to murmur something, the words sending chills down Daryl's spine as he listened. His stomach dropped for a second time that night, only this time, it felt far worse than before.

"I...lied..." Eugene croaked. "I...ain't...no...scientist...so...sorry..."

"Why," Daryl muttered, both anger and remorse bubbling in his veins. "Why'd you..." He met the man's eyes, seeing the terror and pain. "It's alright," he assured Eugene. "It's alright. Don't...you ain't gotta worry about it." Slowly, he reached back for his dagger, Eugene slipping into a coughing fit as more blood pulled into his mouth. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

And swiftly, he brought down the blade into the man's skull. Eugene stopped moving, his body still as Daryl withdrew the weapon from his head. He exhaled, eyes falling to the body that now lie before him. He decided not to tell the other's of Eugene's confession. What good what it do now? For all they new, Washington was still a safe zone. It was where the fucking president was from anyhow. The fire began to burn the hairs on the back of his neck as he stood, moving towards what little entrance was left. Almost instantly, he came face to face with a gun.

"Miss me," Alvarez questioned, shoving the crossbow from Daryl's shoulder as he nudged the man to where the others were standing. "Heard what you did to Gordon."

He grunted as the man's elbow buried itself in the spot between his ribs, Beth crying out in protest as he sunk briefly to the ground. The man snorted, forcing Daryl back on his feet as he walked him to the group. Daryl met his worried wife's expression, her gaze searching his for answers. He could only press his mouth together, eyes glancing towards the ground. She seemed to understand, her hand resting against his wrist as the Governor stepped forward, face illuminated by the blaze.

"Weeks," he said firmly. "Weeks we've been trackin' you and your friends. You didn't think we were finished, did you?" He began to pace, Daryl's concern returning to rage as he watched the man. "You destroyed my town," he said simply. "My people. You had it good there. We gave you food. Shelter. And you ungrateful bastards weren't happy with any of it," he paused, frowning in their direction. "We asked what we did to save us all. To save the human race. And you greedy shits couldn't stand to follow."

"Daddy?"

For the first time, Daryl noticed Penny standing outside of the crowd, her body trembling as she stood by her father. The man's attention briefly turned, a small gracing his features as he knelt down, brushing the girl's long hair back as he offered her a small smile. She did not return the gesture, her eyes falling to her step mother and brother who still stood among the others.

"It's gonna be alright now, darling," he assured her. "You and Tommy are goin' come with Daddy. How does that sound?"

"You're scaring me," she whispered. "I want to be with Andrea."

The smile faded from the man's face as he looked towards his wife. Daryl felt the dagger heavy in his back pocket as the man took a step closer to her. Andrea remained unmoved, her expression somewhat triumphant at her daughter's words. The Governor was far from pleased as he reached towards her neck, his fingers tightening as Rick protested instantly.

"You turned my family against me," he hissed, Andrea attempting to suck in breaths as his grip tightened. "My daughter. My son. You can't have them any more!"

In the light of the fire, Daryl could see Andrea's face turning purple. The blood veins in her eyes beginning to swell as she tried to gather oxygen. Out of the corner of his eye, he glanced towards Beth, her stare focused on Andrea. He swallowed, hand reaching behind him as he gripped his knife. Within seconds, it found its way into the Governor's temple, the man staggering backwards as his hand fell away from Andrea. She collapsed on the ground, coughing violently as oxygen finally found its way to her lungs.

The man who had once called himself governor, now merely Philip Blake, fell to his knees and crumpled to the earth lifeless. The guards stared in horror, guns still raised as they eyed their now fallen leader. It was then that Rick withdrew his own hidden weapon, raising it quickly as he took out one of the many guards. Daryl yanked Beth and Hershel behind him, watching in horror as the firefight started. His eyes landed on his crossbow, which sat only a few feet away.

"Get in the tree line," he instructed. "And wait there."

He hurried, swiping his weapon from the ground as he took Alvarez out before the man had even a moment to react. One by one the guards fell, their bodies crumpling just as the Governor's had. In a matter of a few minutes, all lay dead on the ground, the causalities on the other side being only singular. Eugene. The archer looked to the others, most of the mothers and their children having followed suit to Beth and Hershel.

"Where's Eugene," Abraham asked, looking around to the others.

"Dead," Daryl responded, ignoring the expression of shock and anger that filled the soldier's expression. "Ain't nothin' we can do about it now."

The archer gazed towards the fire, watching as the cabin cracked and crumbled beneath itself. He didn't turn his gaze as Rick stepped forward, his eyes also drawn to the disaster. Soon enough the walkers would come, brought on by the sounds of the fight and the intensity of the blaze. They would need to leave the area now and quickly. Daryl inhaled, the scent of sweat, dirt, and ash filling his nasal passageways.

"Now what?"

"We keep movin'," Rick mumbled. "Head towards D.C."

Daryl nodded, watching as the entrance way finally disappeared as the flames engulfed it. Washington was their only hope now. Daryl could only pray that despite Eugene's words, it truly held safety. It had to. For his, Beth's, and their child's sake. With one last look, he turned away, following Rick as they walked towards where the rest of the group was, the sun just being to peer over the horizon and welcome a new dawn.

**I hope you enjoyed this chapter. But don't think that just because the Governor's dead, doesn't mean I don't have another villain planned for this story. In the Walking Dead verse, you can never have peace for too long. But maybe for a few chapters...we'll see. Anyway, feedback is greatly loved and appreciated. Let me know what kinds of bethyl moments you'd like to see. Baby name talks. Daryl feeling the baby. Anything! Well folks, once exams are over, the chapters will become much longer, so hang on for one day more! Until next time! -Jen**


	30. Chapter twenty nine

**Well exams are now finished and I am very pleased with my results! Thank you all for your well wishes and support! Now comes the nice winter break with all of its writing benefits! So to begin, a wave of gratitude to SirensCalling, DarylDixon'sLover, sillymommy2010, Dixongurl, Mione788, NanamiYatsumaki, Maykits, pisquenta, GabbyAbby, Anara, malzateb, heatherrk, Guest, kristelalugo, Jkattack, SweetSeductionCherryB, engineergirl86, Crisphe, Spoonlicker, Ela, Joise, lulu52, An Amber Pen, Katarzyna88gb, TWDFan05, ArtGirlie815, Tania Ibarbia, Bethyl-Love-Blue-Eyes55, Ayame2004, bluebook1496, MamaDCB, samxhill, dee22dee, Reignashii, kevkye, Guest, wickedclownsmile, StephMcG, jns1253, Peeca151, LettuceBFrank, rckyfrk, and hardygirl87 for your lovely, fabulously inspiring reviews! Now onward, my fellow readers, to the next chapter!**

Chapter twenty nine:

Daviston, Alabama was far from anything like Jackson, Mississippi. The area was far less inhabited, a worn sign in the town reading that the population was somewhere near two or so hundred before the outbreak. Homes all abandoned, streets littered with weathered fliers and advertisements, it had become much of a ghost town, if it hadn't already been that. The lack of bodies and walkers for that matter showed that most had been smart enough to escape-or had disappeared by some other means. But as most places were, a great deal of the buildings had already been ransacked for food and supplies by the time Rick Grimes and his group of sixteen adults and eight children had ventured into the territory.

"Keep your eyes peeled," the sheriff muttered, his revolver positioned in front of him. "Don't know what to expect."

Out of the corner of his eye, Daryl watched as Beth helped her father hobble on his one good leg, a crutch resting underneath his free arm. Her belly had extended significantly since the start of their journey, the baby around six months or so gestation or what they at least figured. Catching his stare, the girl offered her husband a small smile, her arm wound around Hershel's side as she walked slowly, unable to sport a weapon now as many of the adults currently did whilst they moved.

"Judith's hungry," Carl murmured, adjusting his toddler sister in his arms as she struggled.

"We'll scope out the area for a bit and then take a breather," the man promised his son. "I think we could all use some food."

Daryl removed his crossbow from his shoulder, eyes scanning the road ahead of them as a single walker shuffled out into the open. With ease, he took the creature down, the body making a soft thump as it hit the ground. Carol's hand clapped his shoulder blade as he went to retrieve the arrow, frowning softly as he struggled to remove the point from the skull. His arrows did not hold the strength they used to and after a few years, they had become less reliable and more prone to breaking. Thankfully however, the arrow finally slipped from its target and, after wiping the remnants on his pants leg, the archer slipped it back into his pack.

Only a few more walkers made their presence known as the group continued on, the younger children beginning to drag their feet in exhaustion the further they pressed. Daryl finally submitted to carrying Penny, who had fallen, like Morgan, mostly silent since the death of her father. The young girl wrapped her arms around his neck, eyes peering over at Beth with a solemn expression as Daryl shifted her in his arms.

"Your hair looks pretty today, Penny," Beth offered, smiling at the girl. "I wish mine were more wavy."

"They're tangles," the child mumbled. "I don't like them."

"Maybe we can fix them once we stop," the girl tried. "My mama was always good with tangles. Taught me a few things about them."

Penny didn't respond, merely turned her head away and watched the buildings as they passed by. Daryl threw Beth a sympathetic look-or as close to one as the archer could make. Again, he struggled with emotions and expressing them properly. Anger and rage had been his household's trademark, not care and love. But she seemed to understand, she always did despite his guilt for not being able to show her properly.

"Baby's kickin' up a storm," she murmured, meeting his stare. "He's an active little guy."

"Reminds me of you," her father put in, his own mouth curved into a smile. "You used to kick your momma all night long, Belly movin', feet pressed outward. I was half worried you'd pop right out like that. Didn't change much when you were born. Still was a squirmer. Called you my little grub for the longest time. You had these big cheeks and the chubbiest little fists. Used to grab my shirt buttons a lot, worried you'd pull 'em off but your momma always quelled my concerns."

"Daddy," Beth exhaled, her cheeks glowing a light shade of rosy pink.

"Jus' givin' you some insight on what to expect," he smiled, eyes flickering down to her stomach. "You were a good baby. Slept well. If he or she is anythin' like you, they'll be an easy baby. And if not, we'll love 'em unconditionally nevertheless." He breathed, seeming to struggle to catch his breath. "My little grandgrub."

"Don't you start callin' him that," Beth laughed, touching her stomach. "It'll stick."

"Already has," her father smirked. "And if ya'll don't pick a name quick, it might stick even longer than that."

"We're workin' on it," Beth promised, looking to Daryl as he spoke. "It's a process."

They continued on for another half mile, Penny falling asleep at some unknown moment as she relaxed in the archer's arms. The walkers seemed down to a minimum, Rick suggesting that maybe they take a look in one of the houses for a place to rest that night. None were preferably large, the area seeming low to middle class at most, but anything was better than sleeping vulnerable in the outdoors. Plus, there was always the off chance there would be hidden food somewhere. With rations as low as they were, one could only hope.

"How many cans we got," Abraham questioned, his eldest daughter, like Penny, fast asleep in his arms.

"Six maybe seven," Karen answered, looking to Tyreese as she spoke. "Two apricot and the rest baked beans and corn."

The soldier nodded, lips pressed into a thin line as he adjusted his daughter in his arms. The children were hungry, perhaps even considerably starving. With the group as large as it was, it was hard to ration food to equal, manageable portions. Despite his hatred of apricots-fake peaches in his mind-the mention of them sounded incredibly appetizing to the archer at that moment. But he knew, as he always did, most of his serving would be going to Beth. She and the baby needed it more than he did.

"This one looks halfway decent," Rick commented, halting in front of a small, one story home with its windows still intact. "Michonne?"

"Anything works for me," she mumbled, eyeing the building. "Want a couple of us to go in? Clean it out if there are any walkers?"

"Not a bad call," the sheriff nodded. "Um, Glenn, Maggie, Tyreese and Carol. You willin' to scout it with me?"

"Got nothing better to do," Carol stated, her smile humorless as she stepped towards the home.

Daryl watched as the five individuals exited the unlocked house, disappearing from sight as the door closed behind them. Once gone, Daryl's attention turned to Beth. Her expression was somewhat haggard, the exhaustion from the pregnancy and Lyme Disease taking a greater part of her energy away as her father hobbled to the steps, taking a seat to give his daughter a few moments rest.

"You alright?" the archer murmured, moving to his wife's side.

Beth reached down and grasped his hand, pressing it against the swell of her stomach. "Feel him?"

Underneath his palm, Daryl could feel the familiar flutters of their child as it squirmed about, its movements becoming much stronger by each passing day. He met his wife's gaze, her mouth upturned into a gentle, tired smile as she placed her hand over his, remaining silent for a few moments. It was a fascinating express, something Daryl would never be able to put into words.

"Yeah," he mumbled. "I feel him."

"He's strong," she explained, letting his hand fall. "Like his daddy."

Daddy. That was the first time Beth had ever referred to him directly as the father. He stiffened, the word replaying in his mind. Daddy. Father. Parent. His mind went back to his own childhood, to the man that had sired him so long ago. The drunkard who brought home a different woman every night. Who beat the living shit out of him just because he spoke when the man had not wanted him to. Daryl shook his head, inhaling at the memories. He would not be that person. He would _never_ be that man.

Once the scout group returned, the house being deemed livable, the rest of the part entered and filed into the living room. A few cans of soup and two boxes of stale, but usable crackers had been located in what could only be assumed was once a pantry. Using the fireplace, Tara and Rosita began to prepare the meal, most of the children residing in the corner as they took to playing with what few toys had been located by Carol. Daryl wasn't sure the last time any of them had seen just things.

Dinner was served soon after, cups of hot broth with soaking crackers handed out to the members, everyone gratefully downing what little meal there was. Daryl slipped an extra cracker to Beth, Hershel giving him an appreciative expression when he caught him doing so. Like the archer, the man too worried about his daughter's well being, often offering to walk on his own despite his current predicament. But Beth was good, too kind to let such a thing slide by.

"It'll be nice," she murmured, her head resting against Daryl's chest as they settled down for the night. "For our baby to have all these kids to play with..."

Daryl listened to her talk, fingers absently dragging through the tangles of her blonde hair. Exhaustion had begun to creep over his own body, tugging him towards the world of unconsciousness as his wife spoke. Most of the group had already succumb to the darkness, Rick and Michonne keeping watch by the fireplace, speaking in soft tones to one another that Daryl couldn't make out.

"I hope he has your eyes," she continued, meeting Daryl's surprised stare. "They're lovely."

The archer scoffed, looking towards the fire. "Hardly."

"I keep imaginin' what he'll look like," Beth breathed, fingers running down her abdomen. "Do you ever find yourself wonderin'?"

"Sometimes," Daryl admitted. "But I ain't so good with picturin' things."

Beth yawned, her cheek pressing against the archer's sternum as she did so. Daryl looked down at her, eyes scanning across the features of her tired face. Her large, blue eyes held so much kindness, despite everything that had happened, there was still hope in them. He inhaled, letting his hand fall and rest on the small of her back as she began to succumb to her own need to sleep.

"I hope he looks like you," he mumbled, uncertain if she heard him. "Get some sleep."

For a few moments, Beth fell silent, Daryl uncertain if she had drifted into unconsciousness or not. Then, to his surprise, she opened her eyes, her stare locking onto his as her mouth opened and spoke three words that the archer had not been expecting. He stiffened, a chill running down his spine as Beth continued to met his gaze, the seriousness in her expression far from any joking or humorous tone he could find.

"I love you."

**Dun dun dun! Those three words. I always imagined Beth saying it first because I feel she can fall in love easily. It's not that Daryl doesn't love her yet, he just doesn't understand the feeling-due to his hard upbringing. So his response should be interesting to say the least. Feedback is greatly loved and appreciated! It keeps the updates coming frequently! I'd love to hear your thoughts. Who you'd like to hear more from. Let me know in the comments! If this gets a decent amount of feedback today, I'll post the next chapter tomorrow. Otherwise, keep your eyes peeled for Friday! Until next time, folks! -Jen**


	31. Chapter thirty

**Shorter chapter, more of a scene. I have to finish some college essays to try to get into an honors program that will give me automatic admission into my university's graduate school, so I'm a little strapped for time. My apologizes, folks! Anyway, an enormous mountain of thanks to DarylDixon'sLover, SirensCalling, Mhiliano, Dixongurl, Katazyna88gb, sillymommy2010, Mione788, gwenstacy, engineergirl86, kevkye, Guest, Countdraculoh, GabbyAbby, TWD, Guest, wickedclownsmile, rebecca taylor, rckyfrk, heatherrk, xX-LadyScarlettDixon-Xx. kristelalugo, Natercia, sammxhill, malzateb, Pao, An Amber Pen, MamaDCB, jcolunga96, Ela, TWDFan05, Crisphe, NanamiYatsumaki, Guest, zombiegirl56, FluffyTwinkies, StephMcG, live-wannabeawriter, beba20000, pisquenta, Hearts1989, Joise, Tania Ibarbia, angelicedg, peteythepirate, missy7293, Reignashii, ledanna, Bluemom, stacycoonan, shanweener, Stuff thangs, and Artgirlie815 for your wonderful, very motivating reviews for the last chapter! Now to continue!**

Chapter thirty:

I love you.

Three words that Daryl Dixon had never once been told in his entire life. I despise you, you're worthless, his mother would say as she made him fetch another bottle of liquor from the refrigerator. You're an idiot, just another mouth to feed, he'd hear as his father, drunk, stumbled into the bedroom with a woman he'd come across while out buying a container of chewing tobacco. Never once had he heard the phrase "I like you" much less "I love you". And for the first time in his life, the archer found himself stunned and quite frankly frightened by the mere uttering of those three words.

"Daryl?" Beth's voice called, breaking through his concentration. "Are you alright?"

The archer licked his lips, his mouth surprisingly dry as he swallowed. He couldn't bring himself to look at her. For whatever reason, he struggled to make eye contact with the one person who meant the most to him. Who had just proclaimed that he meant the most to her out loud. Gingerly, he shifted her off his body, moving her so that she now sat comfortably up against the sofa as he stood. Without a word, he fished around in his pocket, bringing out the crumpled, disintegrating box of cigarettes that held just a few smokes left.

"Goin' outside," he mumbled, pocketing the box once he withdrew one of the objects. "Gonna make sure no walkers are...don't wait up. I'll be awhile."

He ignored her voice, uncertain as to her reply as he made his way towards the door. Rick and Michonne had stopped talking, their eyes following him as he wandered out of the home and stood on the outcropping porch. The air was cool, just cold enough to be mildly uncomfortable as he inhaled. The air hurt his lungs, his chest heaving as he closed his eyes momentarily, allowing himself a moment of silence. No words. No thoughts. He shoved the cigarette passed his lips, only to realize a second later that one, it had not been lit, and two, he had no way to light it.

"Shit," he uttered through pressed lips.

"Need a light?"

He nearly jumped at the words, not having heard the door open behind him as he struggled with his conscious. The archer turned, seeing none other than Maggie standing behind him. In her hand, she held a small lighter. She said nothing as she stepped forward, moving to his side as he turned away, his hand holding out the cigarette towards his sister-in-law. She lit it with ease, Daryl muttering a word of thanks as he shoved it into his mouth once more.

"You smoke?"

"No," she admitted. "I just keep it with me in case we need it for somethin'." She exhaled, her hands resting on the porch's railing as she gazed out into the open stretch of land surrounded by the few houses that occupied the street. "Heard you and Beth," she mumbled. "Couldn't sleep, but when she said...I didn't realize how serious ya'll were until then. I didn't know that she..." Maggie paused. "Love is a scary thing."

"Ain't no one said I was scared," Daryl mumbled, exhaling a soft puff of smoke.

"But you are," she continued. "And with Glenn, I was too. Everythin' seemed to happen so fast. I...I had a bunch of bad relationships before I met my...well, I guess we're as good as married so husband. Anyway, he was the first to say it. It took me awhile to reach that stage too, even though I felt it. I just worried that maybe...maybe it wasn't supposed to be. That I didn't deserve Glenn. But I did love him, more than I ever realized at the time."

Daryl didn't speak, only exhaled when the smoke became too strong to contain. Maggie never looked directly at him, her eyes still fixed on the environment before them. Cigarette hanging from his lips, the archer sighed, knowing that what Maggie spoke of was true. It didn't even occur to him that this was the first time in weeks she had directly addressed him, her words far from harsh and her glares absent. Perhaps, much like Hershel had, she was beginning to accept that now he was a part of their family. Whether any of them chose to like it or not.

"I didn't..." he finally said. "Beth ain't upset?"

"It takes a lot to rile her up," Maggie snorted. "She's fine. She seems to understand you. Quite frankly, I don't, but I ain't my sister."

Daryl merely nodded, blowing smoke from his mouth as he withdrew the stick, crushing it against the plastic part of the porch railing. The embers glowed, crumbling into black ash as he tossed the now destroyed cigarette onto the concrete. There wasn't much reason not to litter anymore. The world had already gone to shit as it was. Finally, he turned to face Maggie, arms folded over his chest in an almost defensive stance.

"Beth is sweet," Maggie continued, meeting his gaze. "Innocent, whether she admits it or not. I guess the real reason I'm out here is to say...I wanna call a truce. To start over. You haven't hurt her, at least, not yet-and I'll kill you if you do. But for her sake, I want to be your friend. If that's what you want."

"Is it what you want?" Daryl questioned.

"We don't got much choice in this world," she answered. "So we might as well make best the situation as we can."

To Daryl's surprise, Maggie extended her hand towards him. For a moment, he merely stared at it, uncertain of what he should do. Finally, he reached out, taking it into his own grasp as he shook in agreement. The woman's mouth curved into a small, friendly smile. Daryl pressed his own mouth into a similar shape, though he was far from feeling happy at the moment. He needed to see Beth. To apologize if nothing else.

"Go," Maggie informed him. "I ain't gonna get much sleep tonight as it is. I'll keep watch for a bit."

"Thanks," Daryl said, though both of them knew that there wasn't much to keep an eye out for. "Get me if you get tired."

She merely nodded, turning away as the archer reentered the house. He walked through the darken hallway, cursing quietly as he bumped against some piece of furniture, nearly tripping over himself. When he stepped into the living room, he noticed Beth sitting up against the couch. Her eyes were fixed on the fire, her appearance drowsy as she watched the flames flicker softly against the brick prison they were contained in. When he moved closer, she turned, offering him a tired smile as he stood in the door frame.

"Hey," she whispered.

"Hey," he mumbled in reply.

He went to her side, settling down on the floor as she moved closer to him. He did not stiffen as she wound her arms around him, pulling herself nearer to him as her head rested against his chest. They often slept like this, Beth seeking comfort from the mere touch of her husband. Daryl didn't mind, finding unmentioned relief in such embraces as well. But it surprised him how forgiving she seemed of his just walking out only minutes before. The guilt twisting in his stomach as she breathed slowly in and out.

"Look," he began. "Bout what happened. Bout what you said, I..."

"It's okay," Beth assured him. "I understand. I know you do too. You don't have to say it though. Your actions are enough."

He exhaled, letting his chin rest on top of her head. She smelled of sweat and woods but it was a scent he had grown familiar with. That brought him comfort. Hesitantly he brought his hand to her stomach, feeling his child wriggle against his palm. The corners of his mouth twitched into a small smile as he felt it. Beth's breathing began to slow as exhaustion began to drag her under. She needed sleep, deserved it far more than anyone else.

"Sleep," he murmured. "Dawn ain't for another few hours or so."

"Workin' on it," she breathed. "Baby's kickin' my bladder. Not the most comfortable feelin'."

He chuckled, feeling Beth nuzzle closer to him. He too felt the exhaustion creeping towards him, beginning to drag him under as well. But he'd stay awake, not let sleep take him until he was sure his wife had gone first. As she drifted away, he allowed his eyes to close, only to be interrupted by the sound of someone shifting beside him. The corners of his mouth formed into a frown as he reopened his lids, looking over to see Tyreese sitting up from where he lay with Karen.

"Can't sleep," the man mumbled, looking to Daryl.

"Tryin'," he muttered, unable to keep the annoyance from his tone. "You?"

"Trying," he agreed, meeting the man's stare. "Had a dream," he mumbled. "About my sister, Sasha. Lost her and her boyfriend, Bob, years ago when the outbreak first started. In my dream, they were alright. They were with us."

Daryl stiffened at the names. Sasha and Bob. Was it that likely in the world that they were the same pair in Hurndon? He looked to Tyreese, beginning to see the similarities in his face that matched Sasha's. His stomach sank, the feeling uncomfortable as he adverted his gaze to the fire. He wouldn't tell him. Not now. Not that he had been an uncle. Not that both had been killed from where they had come from. He deserved to know, that much Daryl realized, but now was not the time.

"Maybe we'll find them," Tyreese continued. "We found Rick and you guys, maybe there's a chance."

"Dunno," Daryl muttered. "World's big."

They fell silent after that, Tyreese's loud snores soon filling the air where once there was conversation. Daryl settled back against the couch, careful not to jostle Beth as he did so. He felt his eyelids grow heavy, the tendrils of sleep wounding themselves around his limbs as they pulled him towards unconsciousness. As he finally succumbed to the darkness, it was the shrill cry of terror from outside that caused him to immediately rouse back awake.

He sat up, Beth slowly coming to as well as he glanced towards the door. It was not Maggie who had yelled, that much he knew. Immediately, his eyes locked onto Rick's, the sheriff nodding as he stood up. Beth slid off of Daryl, her eyes following her husband as he too moved to grab his weapon. They hurried towards the door, ignoring the sounds of confusion from the other rousing group members as they flung the entrance open. Entering into a situation that neither of them knew what to expect.

**I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I had fun writing it! Feedback is greatly loved and appreciated, I'm very curious to hear your thoughts and it does keep the updates coming frequently. Like, I've never updated a story as fast as I do this one, and it's all thanks to you lovely readers, followers, and reviewers! Let me know who you think the person outside is. I love hearing your guesses! Also let me know what else you'd like to see! It helps give me chapter ideas! Until next time, folks! -Jen**


	32. Chapter thirty one

**I seriously appreciate all of the feedback this story has received thus far. I often feel like quitting, but knowing you guys still enjoy it, makes me realize that I really love writing this too! So, as usual, a hurricane of gratitude to DarylDixon'sLover, malzateb, ledanna, SirensCalling, Guest, Mhilano, Peeca151, Tania Ibarbia, kevkye, Katzarzyna88gb, gwenstacy, sillymommy210, kristelalugo, Ela, Guest, jcolunga96, Reignashii, heatherrk, Natercia, Anara, Guest, crimsonrose0003, ArtGirlie815, Joise, An Amber Pen, engineergirl86, Bugart-VonBum-Kiss, missy7293, and angelicedg for your lovely, always motivating messages of feedback! Now for the next installment!**

Chapter thirty one:

The man scrambled across the paved road, his black robes trailing at his feet as he stumbled frantically away from the two walkers that sauntered after him. His skin was dark, eyes wide with fright as he fell to his knees, clerical collar lopsided as he yelled in terror, only causing the walkers to become more aware of his presence as they moved closer. Daryl had made it to the second step of the porch's staircase when the man instantly took notice of him. His face, though still filled with terror, lit up in relief at just the mere sight of another human being.

"Help me," he cried out. "Oh please, help me! I'm begging you!"

It had been years since Daryl had heard such fear in a man's voice. Even with the children seeing walkers for the first time, none had experienced such a traumatic response. Daryl posed his bow, arrow pointed directly at one of the walker's foreheads when he felt a hand on his arm. He turned slightly, looking to see Rick now at his side. The man's eyes were fixated on the stranger, his expression firm as the creatures drew closer to their victim.

"Could be a trap," the sheriff muttered, his attention then directed solely on the man. "Where's your group?"

"What group?!" The stranger exclaimed, panting as he scurried backwards. "I'm alone! I have no one!"

Bullshit, Daryl knew it had to be. As difficult as it was to survive in this world, doing so solo was even more impossible than not. Especially if the man was as skittish as he acted to be. The walkers trudged closer, their mouths agape as they reached towards the preacher-or at least, that's what the archer assumed his profession was based on his outfit. The man cried out, tears streaming down his cheeks as he looked in desperation at the other people. A look so agonizing, Daryl soon realized that the figure had to be a pretty damn good actor if he were faking now.

"Do somethin'," Maggie insisted, looking towards the man. "He's gonna die!"

"One man over the lives of our group ain't somethin' I find worth riskin'," Rick replied, hand still held out. "What if it turns out he isn't alone? We don't have the ammunition to fight off more people at this moment."

The crossbow remained targeted on the walkers, Daryl hesitating as he watched them stagger closer to the figure, now pinned between two cars. He swallowed, mouth feeling dry as his mind scrambled to configure its various thoughts. Beth. Out of everything he was thinking of, she came to mind. Her faith. Her kindness. What would Beth do in this situation? He inhaled, the cool air burning his nostrils as he let a single arrow fly, the weapon embedding itself in the corpse's skull as it crumpled to the ground.

"Daryl!"

Again he released one, the second buried in the walker's temple as it too fell over. The stranger took a few cautious steps forward, his eyes never leaving the walkers as he wiped vigorously at his cheeks. His chest rose and fell rapidly as he walked over briskly to where Maggie, Rick, and Daryl stood, gratitude lighting up in his features as he held out his arms towards them.

"Thank you," he whispered. "Thank you, thank-"

He immediately fell silent when Rick's gun pointed directly at his face, the fear immediately returning to his expression. With a nod, Maggie stepped forward, her hands frisking the figure as he stood absolutely still, completely subservient to their demands as the eldest Greene daughter took a step back, shrugging at the absence of weapons. Daryl looked on in slight disbelief. There was no way in hell someone could make it this far without any sort of guard.

"What's your name," Rick asked, weapon still drawn on the man. "I ain't gonna ask twice."

"Father Gabriel," he stuttered. "My name is...I'm a preacher...I...I haven't killed anyone, I swear! I don't wish to hurt you! Any of you!"

"What's goin' on?"

Daryl didn't need to look behind him to recognize the voice, but he did anyhow. Standing in the door frame, a hand resting on her stomach, was Beth. She looked at the group curiously, her eyes landing on Father Gabriel as the preacher's own attention drew to her. Daryl watched as the man's eyes scanned his wife, a look of astonishment crossing the preacher's expression as he raised his stare back to the others.

"She's pregnant," he breathed, his mouth curving into a small smile. "It's been so long since I've seen anyone whose..."

"Go back inside, Beth," Daryl muttered, still uncertain of the stranger. "I'll be there in a minute."

"He looks harmless," the girl commented. "And hungry. You must be starvin'."

"Yes," he nodded vigorously. "Yes, I was looking for food. I took my church's bus. It had some gas left in it, I've been driving for an hour or so and then..." his voice trailed off. "I landed in a ditch, I...I tried to get it out but then they came," his attention returned to the walkers. "That's when I ran into you people. I...I don't have any weapons. I'm just in need of some food. I thought that maybe...maybe if I drove a ways, I could come across somewhere that had it. A safe point or station the army set up. I don't know. I've been in my church for so long...I don't really understand..."

"How have you survived this long alone," Rick questioned, still aiming at the preacher. "You've had to kill at some point."

"By the will of God," he whispered, shaking his head. "I won't even kill...them," he looked towards the two lifeless bodies of the walkers. "My faith is in God, sir, and I will not befall any of the devil's traps into sin. I'm a good man, I promise. I will not harm any of you. All I ask is for something to eat. It's been so long..."

Rick was silent for a few moments, eyes still fixed on Gabriel. Finally, he nodded, gaze unmoved from the man's face.

"Get him somethin' to eat, Beth," he mumbled. "Tell the others everythin's okay, but to stay put."

"How many of you are there," the preacher questioned as the younger Greene disappeared. "Are there children?"

"That ain't none of your concern right now," the sheriff replied. "Go on and sit down, you don't take two more steps near the house unless any of us says so."

When Beth returned, she brought back with her an entire can of beef stock. Despite it being room temperature, the man drained it as if it were the most delectable thing he had ever tasted on this planet. Daryl looked on, Beth standing at his side with her hand on his shoulder as the preached wiped his mouth, setting the can down to instead lift up the canteen of water Maggie placed before him.

"Thank you," he murmured. "You are so kind. I've been blessed today. So many times."

"It ain't no blessin'," Daryl mumbled. "Jus' luck."

"Whatever it may be, I am grateful," he replied, offering a small smile. "You seem like good people."

Rick didn't reply, merely nudge the can aside with his foot. He exhaled, leaning down so that his eyes locked on to the preacher's. Daryl waited, uncertain as to what the sheriff had in mind to say. He was quite frankly at a loss for words himself. Then again, he tended to struggle with that issue quite often. Beth's fingers tightened on his shoulder as Rick began to speak, her concern evident in her touch.

"Where are you from?"

"Mableton," he answered. "Mableton, Georgia. My church is out there...not much left of the town, but I didn't think it was safe to travel into Atlanta."

Rick seemed to stiffen at the mention of the city, his head turning away for a moment to gaze off into the distance before returning to the preacher. Father Gabriel watched him careful, Daryl assuming the man understood that Georgia had been the sheriff's previous place of residence. Rick inhaled, scratching at the side of his head before he let out the breath he was holding.

"You said there was a bus," he continued. "Where and how big?"

"Small," the preacher concluded. "Maybe fits fifteen to twenty people comfortably. My congregation was small, we didn't need much for service projects." He paused, looking back towards Beth. "Do you think it'd be big enough for your people?"

"That's not your concern right now," Rick replied. "Where is it?"

"A mile, maybe two back," answered the preacher. "Like I said, it's stuck in a ditch. I tried to get it out, but it was too deep and wide. Maybe if someone were to push it..."

"We'll go," Rick concluded. "Bring you along, have you show us where it is. We'll get it out. But if it's a trap-"

"It isn't," the preacher attempted to assure him. "You have my word."

"Gotta take that with a grain of salt nowadays," the sheriff muttered looking towards Daryl. "You, me, Abraham, and Glenn. We'll go and see if it's worth it. Maybe it'll provide some transportation into Georgia for some ways."

"Oh no," Father Gabriel whispered. "Please, I don't want to go back to the road. The walkers-"

"You don't gotta choice in this situation," Rick replied firmly. "We'll protect you, but we sure as hell ain't leavin' you here alone with our people."

Daryl felt Beth's fingernails dig deeper into his shoulder. He turned slightly, seeing her eyes lock onto his. He knew she didn't wish for him to go off on his own. Since they had been married, they hadn't spent such a long time apart. Always together, no matter the situation. A couple miles and getting the vehicle out could take a few hours, maybe more at most. And yet, the idea of willing separation seemed to cause her unease.

"It'll be fine," he muttered, resting his hand on top of hers. "Won't take too long. You go back inside and rest. Don't know how much sleep we'll be gettin' once on the road."

Beth inhaled, nodding her head. "Just...be careful," she said, her voice soft. "I don't like goodbyes."

"Then we'll agree to see each other soon," he said, hesitating before placing a hand on her stomach. "When we get back, we'll talk about names, just like you wanted."

The corners of her mouth formed a small smile, but the worry in her features still was present. Nevertheless, she pulled Daryl into an embrace, mumbling something he could barely make out before she released him. He didn't flinch when she pressed a kiss to his cheek, stepping back as he rose to his feet. His eyes never left hers as he stepped down the steps, soon joined by Glenn and Abraham as Rick had commanded Maggie to retrieve.

"It'll be back," he promised. "Ain't gotta go worryin' yourself."

"I'll hold you to that," Beth said, her mouth curved into a humorless smile. "Don't get yourself into trouble, Daryl Dixon."

"Can't hold you to that," he smirked, though he found it hard to find joy in leaving her side. "I'll see you soon."

"No goodbyes," she replied, watching as they followed the preacher. "Hurry back."

Daryl inhaled, nodding his head in response as her figure grew more and more distant the further they walked. Daryl could only hope he could keep his promise to his wife as she disappeared from sight. Soon abandoned by the safety of their cabin as they entered into the wilderness and its dangerous paths.

**I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I plan to have some fun with Father Gabriel for a bit. And some fun with Bethyl too once they reach Atlanta, Georgia...interpret that as you may. Um, more bethyl planned for the next chapter as well as some excitement! Feedback greatly appreciated! Let's me know you are still interested in the story and what you'd like to see (and gives me something to look forward to when I wake up in the morning). Sorry for shorter chapters, but I thought that might be better instead of a long chapter once a week. Chapters will eventually get longer once I have more time to write! Also, should I bring Terminus into this story? Let me know! Until next time! -Jen**


	33. Chapter thirty two: Part One

**A few things, this is another two parter chapter due to the fact that I still have school work despite the winter break. But again, I do try to update every day so hopefully you folks don't mind the shorter chapters as they are frequent. Two, thank you to all who have reviewed the previous chapter. My ipod has currently gone AWOL so I'll have to type out usernames next chapter upon its relocation. I'm going to try updating every day this week-maybe even Christmas if inspiration finds me. I hope you all are enjoying the story. I have so much planned and I'm so worried I'm losing readers (long story, I worry a lot). Anyway, here is the next chapter! **

Chapter thirty two: Part One

"Now!"

Daryl grunted as he pushed with all his might, fingers sliding against the slick metal of the bus's rear as the tire spun wildly, kicking mud and sod up as they went. From his spot in the ditch, he could just make out the back of Glenn's head as the other man bore down on the gas peddle. Abraham cursed at his side, hissing as he too tried to shove the heavy vehicle further from the rut. The archer exhaled, back aching as he gazed towards the top of the hill, noting Rick standing with his weapon visible in case any walkers decided to show. At his side, Father Gabriel looked on, the fear and ever present hesitance masked across his features.

"It ain't fuckin' budgin'," the soldier grumbled, eyes fixated on the sheriff. "It ain't much use! Damn thing's caught in the mud."

"It's got gas," Rick called down, aggravation mixed with desperation evident in his expression. "We don't got much choice."

The collective exhale that escaped from both the archer's and soldier's mouths was almost comedic as they shoved their bodies against the machine once more. Daryl barely heard Rick's command to Glenn before more dust and dirt splattered across his clothes and face. His skin itched, the dried substance even more uncomfortable than the pain in his muscles as he pushed forward, the wheels giving some way up the slope.

"That's it," Rick exclaimed. "It's startin' to go."

"Not much," Abraham muttered through gritted teeth. "If this damn thing rolls back over top of me because of you, I'm gonna tear the hell outta you when I turn."

"Duly noted," the sheriff responded, nodding to the driver to try again.

The experience briefly reminded the archer of the time he and his brother had gotten their own car trapped in the ditch. Of course, Merle had been running from the cops after a traffic stop gone wrong and despite losing them, he still managed to worsen the situation by crashing the car. There weren't any walkers to concern themselves with, but the thunderstorm that soon followed during their pursuit to remove the vehicle left Daryl willing to take on a herd over that experience again any day. He inhaled, breathing in through his nose as he shoved hard, feeling the bus give a little as it inched slowly up the steep incline.

"How much gas does this damn thing have anyway," Abraham grunted, knees bent as they moved with the vehicle.

"Glenn said maybe half a tank, a little less," Rick replied, running to grasp the front of the bus as he motioned for the preacher to do the same. "Anythin' is better than nothin'."

"Hope you're right," Daryl groaned, brow furrowing as he gave the mass one final heave before it teetered over the edge.

He stumbled back, mud splashing up onto his wrists as Rick whooped at the sight of the now usable vehicle. His chest ached, oxygen burning as it filled his lungs. If anything, he could go for a hot shower and a couple of pain killers right now. Of course, such would not be the case. He watched as the sheriff entered the bus, the man taking note of all the seats before he leaned out of an opened window.

"If we squeeze in, maybe three people to a seat at most, it should work."

"It has to," Abraham muttered in response. "I didn't just pull every muscle in my back for nothin'."

The ride back to the makeshift campsite was more relaxing than not. Though it was a short one, there was something comforting about being able to sit down and not walk for once. Daryl leaned back in his seat, exhaling as he sank back against the false leather of the upholstery. If nothing else, it'd be good for Beth. She needn't be walking so much in her condition. With her pregnancy as far along as it had become, relaxation and comfort were the two best things for her now. Not to mention that the Lyme Disease was beginning to impact her more the further it went untreated.

"We'll pack everyin' up and shove it up underneath the seats," Rick said as they pulled up to the house. "Glenn, do you feel alright with drivin' this thing?"

"Sure," the man replied, mouth curling into an almost playful smile. "Not exactly my pick of cars, but I'll take it."

The children's surprised faces was possibly the most amusing thing Daryl had seen in days as the families began to clamber out of the household. Many of the kids, with the exception of the older ones, hadn't really seen such a thing as a bus before in their lives. Not to mention none had ever ridden in anything resembling a car to begin with. Daryl moved to Beth's side as she stepped out, accepting her embrace as Carol and Michonne moved passed with the various backpacks and knapsacks of supplies. When they pulled apart, he met her gaze, noticing the exhaustion in her eyes.

"You alright," he murmured.

She nodded her head, "Peachy."

"Bus'll get us a good ways into Georgia," he promised, looking towards the vehicle as the group started loading up into it. "Maybe there we can find some gas, get it to take us even further."

"There's always hope," Beth replied, her mouth forming a smile. "I'm happy to see you."

"Me too," he muttered, glancing once more towards the bus. "C'mon, don't think Rick is up to waitin' much longer."

Daryl let Beth take the window seat as they made their way into the vehicle. Much like he remembered from his days of schooling, the interior was filled with the excited sounds of chatter from the children. Only Taryn, Rosita and Abraham's youngest, seemed quite frightened by the whole experience and was found to be crying in her mother's arms as Glenn started up the engine.

"Where are we going?" Emilia asked, looking to her mother and father.

"Georgia," Abraham replied, smiling as he ruffled his daughter's hair. "We're gonna try to get into Washington D.C. Remember what that is?"

"The capital," the girl chimed in. "Mama teached me that!"

"Taught," Rosita corrected gently. "And yes, that's where we're going to go. It's going to be safe there. Maybe there will even be a school for you. Would you like that?"

"I went to school once," Penny replied, speaking for the first time that morning. "I was in third grade. My teacher was named Ms. Embry. She was nice. I miss her."

"Maybe she's in Washington," Emilia offered. "Maybe she can teach me too!"

Penny didn't reply, only return her gaze out of the window. Daryl too found his mind wandering, a sense of uneasiness overcoming him as he remembered vaguely the conversation he shared with Eugene. _I lied. _The words replayed in his mind over and over again like a recording as he stiffened where he sat. What if Washington wasn't a safe zone at all? What if he, because of holding the man's secret, was putting everyone in danger? Putting Beth in danger?

"Daryl?"

The mention of his name caused the archer to turn. Beth's eyes were fixated on his, a look of concern gracing her features as she touched his forearm.

"Is everythin' alright?"

"Yeah," he replied, forcing a smile onto his face. "Everythin's-"

Daryl only saw the other vehicle out of the corner of his eye before it happened. A black car, white cross spread across its windshield as a figure raised a gun, pointing it directly at one of the tires. He opened his mouth to shout, arm immediately flinging in front of Beth in a weak effort to shield her as the first front tire went out. The screams of the children and other passengers filled the archer's ears as the vehicle spun, hitting something on the road that caused them to overturn.

"Beth," he managed to say, trying to reach for his wife as she smashed against the window. "Take my hand!"

Her fingers outstretched, face contorted into an expression of pain before the bus hit another turn, immediately causing both to be yanked back as the vehicle slid to a halt. Consciousness slipped in and out of the archer's grasp, his eyes flickering as he could only watch as two figures approached the flaming wreckage, taking a hold of Beth's limp body and carrying her away. His stomach sank, anger and fear finding him as he watched them load her into the back of the vehicle. Coming once more to take another he couldn't recognize from how he was situated.

Daryl Dixon could only watch in horror as the two figures loaded into the vehicle and proceeded to drive away, the white cross the only thing visible until it went completely out of sight. Unconsciousness soon followed afterward, tugging the archer into an unfit pit of darkness. Beth's name ghosting his lips as he unwillingly succumbed to the oblivion that was sleep.

**Before everyone attacks me with pitchforks and flaming torches, NO I will NOT pull a MSF and kill Beth (still in denial), but that is all I will admit on that part. I will say that the story will shift between third person points a view between Beth and Daryl for A LITTLE WHILE. I don't want to keep our lovely lovers apart for too long. Daryl won't allow it. Feedback is greatly loved and appreciated! If this gets a decent amount of feedback, I'll have someone reveal the baby's official gender next chapter. Anyway, let me know your thoughts! Part two coming soon! -Jen**


	34. Chapter thirty two: Part Two

**A Christmas treat! Thanks for all of the reviews, folks! I seriously appreciate it! I know several of you aren't thrilled about Grady Memorial, but I promise, no Beth death. Besides, someone needs to treat that Lyme Disease and I need Beth to realize her full potential. Of course, Bethyl will soon happen again. And I'll even give them a few happy chapters once she is rescued! Alright, enough of my chatter, this will be in Beth's point of view. Time to write! (Also ipod is still sadly AWOL, gonna check at the house I'm petsitting at to see if it is there)**

Chapter thirty two: Part Two

It was the unmistakable ache in her wrist that first brought Beth's mind back to the reality that was consciousness. Her eyelids felt as if they had an unnatural weight to them as she struggled to open her eyes. Vision blurred, the girl found herself blinking in long, drawn out pauses as her sight finally came to. White. The one color that seemed to surround her more than anything else. White walls, white curtain, even the sheets pulled over the mound that was her stomach. It was a shade that was far from anything comforting, and as Beth moved gingerly to sit up, she realized why such a hue was surrounding her so. A hospital.

Her head was spinning, mind struggling to comprehend the previous events that had led up to this moment. The child squirmed almost impatiently inside of her womb, a sign that momentarily relieved Beth that it had not been harmed. Or at least, from what she could tell. Yanking the IV drip from her forearm, she pushed herself onto her feet, swaying slightly as the blood rushed down to her other extremities.

"You're awake," a voice exclaimed. "Thank goodness, I was beginning to worry."

Beth stiffened in defense as a man stepped in through the entrance of her room. Average height, somewhat stocky, the figure adjusted the glasses that had slipped down onto his nose as he held out his hands. The girl remained still, her one good hand pressed to her stomach as he moved slowly closer, remaining at a reasonable distance when he finally stopped to meet her wary gaze.

"My name is Dr. Edwards," he introduced, mouth forming a sort of smile. "You're safe now."

"Where am I?" Were the first words to slip from the youngest Greene's mouth. "The accident...my husband, Daryl. Where's my husband?"

"I'm sorry," the man replied, his expression changing to one of confusion. "But you and the older man were the only ones the medical assistance team found. You've been out for a few hours, got a nice knot on the back of your head. But we checked on the baby and he's doing perfectly fine. The placenta and amniotic fluid are quite an amazing feature of the female human anatomy."

"He," Beth inquired, looking at the doctor. "My baby's a..."

"Boy," the man nodded. "At least, that's what it looks like. Our equipment isn't the best, but he's got a good heartbeat to him and measures nicely for a fetus at twenty six weeks...I hope that's how far along you are."

"Wyatt," she breathed, gaze briefly flickering down to the swell of her stomach.

"Pardon?" Dr. Edwards asked. "Wyatt?"

"Nothing," she shook her head, regretting the action almost instantly when her ears began to ring. "The other man, where is he?"

"We have him in another room," replied the doctor. "He's slightly worse off than you were. But I believe he'll pull through just fine. His leg is incredible though," the man breathed, stare meeting hers. "The amputation. Was that done before or after the outbreak? The repair work is quite extraordinary and the fact that he's made it this far with such a handicap is beyond me."

Leg. The color drained from the girl's face at the mention of the ghost limb. It was a strange sense of relief and fear that manifested itself in the pit of her chest as she looked to the doctor in desperation. Hershel. Her father. So he was here too. Swallowing hard, Beth straightened up where she stood. If she showed any sign of ailment, she didn't doubt that the man would immediately have her sent back to her cot.

"The man," she explained. "My father, I must see him."

"I'm not sure if that is such a wise decision," he attempted to argue. "Your condition isn't exactly stable. The baby-"

Beth ignored the man's words as she pushed past him, her feet hitting the cold ground below as she entered into the hallway. Two rows of rooms lined either side of the walkway as she made her way down, blocking the sound of Dr. Edwards' calls of protest as she went. As she drew closer to a room that looked to be inhabited, she was immediately stopped in her tracks by a woman in a dark blue uniform.

"Who gave you permission to leave your quarters," she questioned, hands on her hips.

"I want to see my father," Beth said slowly, venom dripping into her usually cheerful tone. "I don't need anyone's permission for that."

"Well unfortunately for you, I run this ship," the woman glared, an arm outstretched to grasp Beth's good arm. "And unless given clearance, you have absolutely no right to be anywhere but where I've placed you. Or if someone else has-"

"Officer Dawn," Dr. Edwards panted, out of breath as he approached the two women. "She's with me."

"You?" The woman inquired, glancing at first towards Beth and then to the man. "You told her she could-"

"The man's her father," the figure replied. "Mamet's in charge of the other patient, but I thought he was stable enough for her to take a look at him. We won't be long. I'll have her back within the hour. She has another round of medication then."

Dawn eyed the doctor for a few moments, her lips pressed into a firm, thin line before she returned her attention to Beth. Finally, after what seemed like several minutes, the officer nodded, waving her hand as she released Beth from her grasp. She took a few steps, a hand pushed onto the doctor's shoulder as she turned to face him, expression far from that of friendliness.

"I'll hold you responsible if anything happens, Edwards," she exclaimed. "See to it that it doesn't."

"Yes, officer," he agreed. "I promise that it won't."

The two watched as Dawn exited the hall by turning a corner. Once she had disappeared from sight, Beth turned to the man, a look of relief crossing her features at his bold face lie. Despite her lack of ability to follow his rules, he had still covered for her nevertheless.

"Thank you," she breathed. "You didn't have to-"

"No," he agreed. "I didn't."

Beth stiffened as he motioned for her to follow him. She obliged, trailing behind the man as he led her down the hallway and into an open room. There, lying on the bed, oxygen tube resting underneath his nasal passageways lay Hershel. He looked bruised and cut, but otherwise comfortable. Beth stumbled forward, moving to her father's side before Edwards could fit in another word.

"Oh Daddy," she whispered, her voice breaking.

"Does Dawn know you're here?"

Beth turned her head to see another stranger standing in the doorway. Much like Edwards, he too was average sized sporting a pair of glasses. But unlike the doctor, this man seemed to be more lanky, almost rodent like as he moved past the other man and to the opposite side of where she stood. Adjusting his glasses, the man turned and eyed Edwards warily.

"Milton," Edwards greeted quietly. "Beth, this is Dr. Mamet. Milton, she is your patient's daughter."

"I see," Milton mumbled, returning his stare to Hershel. "And Dawn..."

"Knows," Edwards finished. "Look, we won't be in your way for long. I just brought her here to see her father, that's all."

"Just making sure you're aware of the hospital's protocols," the other doctor mumbled, eyeing Beth from across the bed. "You're the pregnant one? Officer Dawn took a keen interest in you. We haven't had any patients that were expecting mothers until you came along."

"Other patients?" Beth inquired.

"Over the months, we've found other survivors just like yourself," Milton explained. "Saved their lives by bringing them here. If not for us, the lot of you would probably be dead...or worse off."

Beth merely eyed Milton silently, a sense of distrust finding her as their eyes met. She didn't care much for this man, which was saying a lot as she normally chose not to judge until after knowing a person for awhile. She believed that there was good in everyone, but something about Dr. Mamet was off putting. Like a rattlesnake in a bed of leaves, he too seemed to be a man of sly nature.

"We should go, Beth," Edwards said gently. "We can come back later if you'd like. You must be hungry. Let's try to find you some food, yes?"

Though she felt otherwise, Beth reluctantly left her father's side, peering once over her shoulder as she moved to join Dr. Edwards at the door. She could feel Milton's eyes following her as she left the room, holding her breath until she was a good ways down the hall. Ignoring the look from her own doctor, Beth continued on back towards her room. They needed to get out of here. How, she wasn't sure. But she needed to find Daryl before something worse happened. And as it was, she could only rely on herself for that.

"Everything will be just fine, Beth," Edwards assured her. "Why don't you lay down? I'll be right back with something for you to eat."

Beth did as she was told, even offering the doctor a small smile in return. When he had disappeared, she rose from her bedside, moving towards the window. Her blood turned cold as she eyed the sight before her. A city, nearly in ruins from what it once had been. Buildings laden in shattered windows. Streets flooded with debris. In the distance, she saw an advertisement, just barely able to make out the faded print from where she stood.

Welcome, it read, to Atlanta, Georgia.

**I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Next chapter it'll be both from Daryl's and Beth's prospective. Man's gotta go find his woman! Feedback is greatly loved and appreciated! I'd love to know your thoughts. Also, should Wyatt be given a middle name? Let me know if you think so and if you have any names in mind. Merry Christmas and happy holidays everyone! Until next update! -Jen**


	35. Chapter thirty three: Part One

**Another two parter chapter. I'll probably post the rest tonight. Okay, I know it's been four days since I updated and I am so sorry**. **I was actually going to go on an unannounced hiatus, but decided against it. If you guys love this story, then I shall continue it for I love it too! I just need to get over the ruts and bumps and push through this writer's block! So iPod's back! A wave of gratitude to** **DarylDixon'sLover, Dixongurl, SirensCalling, sillymommy2010, kristelalugo, Peeca151, malzateb, Guest, ledanna, Joise, Ela, angelicedg, brady66, Anara, Tania Ibarbia, lulu52, DixonGreene010, staceycoonan, maryjanewatson, Serialkillingyou, blesdirishangel, MamaDCB, Guest, boothandbones4ever, SilentFlame13, and An Amber Pen for your wonderful, motivating messages of feedback! Now for the next chapter!**

Chapter thirty three: Part One

_"Daryl."_

_The archer's eyelids fluttered open, vision focusing to reveal the setting of his old attic room. Oxygen filled his lungs as he heaved, confusion and disbelief intertwining in his mind as a hand on his chest gently traced the old scars and faded tattoos that laden it. Beth. She peered up at him, her eyes full of love and friendliness, hair slightly tousle as she continued to stroke his skin gently. He wanted to sit up, to move, but for some reason, his body refused the action. _

_"Where..." he muttered. "This ain't..."_

_"Your dreamin'," she soothed, her voice quiet. "It's okay."_

_"I saw them," he mumbled, meeting her gaze with such a look of desperation. "I saw them take you."_

_"Who?" Beth inquired, her eyes falling to his chest. "Who took me?"_

_"I don't..." he paused. "I ain't know...it all happened so fast."_

_He exhaled, allowing his head to fall back on the pillow as Beth hummed softly. The familiar scent of dust and aged wood filled his nose, almost as if he were truly back in Hurndon. Beth's hair fell against his skin, tickling the dark hairs of his forearm as she remained focused on his various imperfections. The real Beth hadn't ever touched him in this way. Even in intimacy, they had never gone as far as to cuddle._

_"You're hurt," Beth murmured. "It's gonna hurt when you wake up."_

_"But I gotta," he replied. "I'm gonna find you."_

_"Stay," she whispered, her hand applying pressure to his chest. "Don't go."_

_It seemed like such a welcoming suggestion. Here he was safe. Unaware. Untouched by the world. But the more he gazed at Beth, the more her expression got distorted. She blurred, her once beautiful features seeming to melt like water spilling on a painting. The room was caving in on itself, the comfort disappearing as a searing, white light began to flood his vision, tugging him mercilessly back to the realm of consciousness. _

"Daryl!"

The name rang in his ears, aching in his temples as he slowly peeled his eyes open. Carol, face smudged with dirt and blood, hovered over him with a look of anxiety masked across her features. He blinked, every inch of his body seeming to scream in protest as he forced himself to sit up right. Glass and stone cut across his arms, leaving thin, red lines in their wake. Head spinning, he met Carol's stare, breathing in and out as oxygen began to repump through his lungs.

"They took her," he managed to utter. "I...Beth..."

Her name felt dry on his tongue, his thoughts throbbing of the moments right after the accident. The others, they were unimportant right now. Grunting, he made himself stand up, picking away at the stray shards that had lodged themselves into his skin. The scene around him was disastrous at least. Children crying, comforted by parents who keenly looked over their every inch for injuries. A few of the group members stumbling about, helping those who needed it.

"Daddy?" Maggie called out, the eldest Greene sister's face twisted into a look of utter fear and desperation. "Has anyone seen him?"

"Beth," Daryl exhaled, moving to where Rick stood amidst the rubble. "They took 'em."

Rick turned, his own face scratched and torn in the accident. He eyed Daryl, inhaling deeply before looking to the others. Abraham strolled forward, blood trickling down his nose and into his red mustache. Behind him, Rosita crouched with their daughters, all seemingly unscathed by the accident. The soldier brushed Daryl aside, pointing to the road with a gesture of urgency.

"We need to get away from here now," he stated. "Those people-those bastards, Christ only knows when they're gonna come back for the rest of us. We need to get outta here now!"

"I ain't goin' no where," Daryl interjected. "Not until I get Beth back!"

"She's as good as gone," Abraham hissed. "She and the one legged man, we have no idea how far they went!"

"Fuck you," Daryl growled, shoving the man in his chest. "You wouldn't be talkin' shit if it were your wife or one of your kids!"

"Easy," Rick exclaimed, stepping between the two angered individuals. "We don't leave our own behind."

"So we're just gonna be sittin' ducks, is that it?" Abraham nearly shouted. "The fuck I'm gonna put my family at risk again. I don't remember puttin' you in charge, and I'm as sure as hell beginnin' to think that maybe it's time we have a reelection-"

"I'll go."

It was the confident, but quiet input that had the men turn around. There, standing there with a look of solemnness, was Carol. She adjusted her weapon in her hands, glancing toward the other figures. Daryl eyed her curiously, watching as she stepped forward so that they now stood in a circle.

"Daryl and I will go," she said. "Figure out where this place is. We'll communicate it somehow. Get back to you. Set up camp deep in the woods and try to hold it for as long as you can. There are cars all over this road. At least one of them has to have some gas left in it. Road only goes straight, not much we can do but follow it."

Carol didn't owe neither him nor Beth anything and yet, she was willing to risk her life to save a girl she barely knew. An act Daryl took as a true sign of friendship. He looked to Rick, nodding his head in agreement as the sheriff considered this new option. Exhaling, he glanced towards the others, knowing that most wanted nothing more than to bring their families as far away from probable harm as possible.

"I got some radios," he mumbled, nodding to Carl to step forward with his backpack. "Not sure how long the batteries will last, but it's somethin'."

Daryl nodded his head, inhaling deeply as the sheriff fished the set from the satchel. He handed on to the archer, meeting the man's gaze as he continued to keep his hand on the device.

"When you find 'em," he muttered. "You let us know and we'll come."

Daryl nodded, pocketing the device as he spoke. "You ain't gotta tell me twice."

Rick gave a shake of his head in response, taking a step back as Carol moved beside the archer, nudging him with her shoulder. He looked at her, her mouth forming a small, humorless smile. Inhaling, he adjusted his bow over his shoulder. It was going to be a long day.

**Feedback's greatly loved and appreciated, it really keeps me writing! If this gets a decent response, I'll post again tonight. Maybe throw in another bethyl dream sequence. Anyway, hope you enjoyed! Until next time! -Jen**


	36. Chapter thirty three: Part Two

**You guys are truly the sweetest. When I read how many of you love this story, it made me feel so good. I was under the impression that people had lost interest after the escape from Hurndon. So thank you for making it clear to me that I still have readers! Now, as usual, a wave of gratitude to Crisphe, brady66, Katarzyna88gb, breathingforbethyl, engineergirl86, Dixongurl, DarylDixon'sLover, Mione788, SilentFlame13, darkmagic77, cherrywineBA, SirensCalling, Katie, krysx3, TheGoldenElf, FluffyTwinkies, malzateb, lulu52, Spoonlicker, Shaweena, kristelalugo, GabbyAbby, mhustler, asseylum, DixonShipster, dee22dee, zombiegirl56, TWDFan05, Reignashii, mockingbird986, heatherrk, Joise, Tania Ibarbia, beba20000, elizabethflack75, peteythepirate, gwenstacey, maryjanewatson, LettuceBFrank, sportschick44, crimsonrose003, AnnMarie318, Salovi, CissyDella, Delishus, Guest, and Guest for your always inspiring, motivating feedback! Now onward, my fellow readers, to part two!**

Chapter thirty three: Part Two

Beth stared hesitantly at the plate of instant mash potatoes and beef stew as Dr. Edwards stood off to the side. She wasn't particularly hungry, her mind still focused on the thoughts of Daryl and the previous accident. Peering up from her meal, she noticed the doctor's eyes fixated on her, almost as if he were expecting her to have some sort of a reaction. She inhaled, picking up her fork, digging it into the pile of white fluff before forcing a mouthful past her lips. Flavorless. Lukewarm. She struggled to swallow the bite before returning for another, not realizing how hungry-despite the unappealing taste-she truly was.

"It's not the best," the man commented, watching as she went for a jerky stick. "But Dawn's been rationing the whole hospital. I tell you, we seem to bring more people in than we do supplies. Not that we're particularly low...but it wouldn't hurt to have a couple extra cans lying around." He sighed, scratching the back of his head. "How're you feeling?"

"Fine," she stated, though it was only partially true. "You mentioned medicine before...for what?"

"Dawn has us run blood tests on new patients," the man explained. "...To make sure none are currently infected. When I did yours, I noticed a presence of Borrelia burgdorferi..." he paused, adjusting his glasses. "A bacteria linked to Lyme Disease? Seems like you've had it awhile since the test came back positive so quickly. I've already got you started on a dose of antibiotics, won't hurt the baby, but it'll help take away the symptoms."

"Thank you," she forced a thin smile across her features. "For helping me."

"It's my job," he replied. "It's what Dawn has me do. Save people."

The words sounded tense as they escaped from the doctor's lips and Beth couldn't help but wonder exactly to what extreme he meant. Deciding not to press the matter further, she finished up her meal, finding the contents more satisfying the quicker she swallowed them down. Edwards took her plate away from her upon her completion, tossing it into a nearby bin. The girl was somewhat surprised by this, finding such an act wasteful considering the current circumstance they were in.

"Dawn doesn't like us reusing styrofoam and lighter plastics," the man explained. "Spreads germs."

As Beth opened her mouth to respond, there came a knock on the hospital room door. She stiffened, wondering if it was the female officer as the entrance cracked open. Milton entered, his face still as he met Beth's gaze. Slowly, he closed the door behind him, taking a few steps forward as he cleared his throat. Edwards' eyes followed the other doctor, a look of curiosity crossing his features at the other man's arrival.

"I..." he paused. "I believe we got off on the wrong foot and I wanted to apologize." He strode forward, his hand extended towards Beth. "Dr. Mamet," he introduced. "But most just call me Milton."

Beth smiled, taking the man's hand. He was, after all, caring for her father and even if she didn't exactly trust him yet, she needed to act as if she did for Hershel's sake. "The pleasure is all mine," she said. "Beth Greene. My father...how is he-"

"That's what I came here to talk to you about," he interrupted, mouth curving into a small smile. "He's not quite lucid yet, but he's beginning to come to. Um," he paused, inhaling deeply as he eyed the door. "Dawn's busy on the fifth floor. Couple of patients have been working on the interior garden, what with the weather changing. As a new patient, you aren't exactly allowed around yet but because of your father..." he exhaled. "I thought that now would be as good a time as any to spend some time with him. Patient interaction has been a proven healing technique."

Beth's smile became genuine at the man's notion. Nodding her head, she rose from her seated position, exhaling as the baby squirmed, nudging her hard in the kidneys. Pregnancy sure was far from being the easiest thing she'd ever experienced. But the baby-Wyatt would be worth it in the end. Milton offered her a small lipped grin in return as she approached him.

"So we can go now," she inquired, looking from Edwards to Milton.

"I was going to start your medications..." the doctor mumbled, giving Milton a look. "Perhaps-"

"As long as she takes it within the day, it'll do as much good later as it would now," Milton replied. "I believe my patient would be more willing to discuss matters upon seeing his daughter."

Beth knew that Milton had an interesting fascination with her father, as it had been Edwards who had mentioned his amputated leg. She didn't much care for it, not really wanting to know the details as how it happened. All that matter was that he was safe now and while here, that no more harm would come to him. Inhaling, Beth adjusted her stance, waiting as Milton opened the door and allowed her to exit from the room.

**xXx**

Daryl heard the walker fall before it had even been able to approach him. He fumbled around with the stone, smashing it against the window of the fourth car they decided to try as Carol watched his back. He glanced around, scanning the vehicle for any sign of keys. He could hot-wire it of course, but there wasn't much time to do so. Frowning, he hit his fist against the upholstery, cursing quietly to himself as he stood back up straight.

"No such fuckin' luck," he grumbled. "The fucker who was drivin' it probably was stupid 'nough to take the damn ignition key with 'em."

"We'll try again," Carol assured him. "One of these is bound to run."

The archer grumbled as the woman took out a second walker, the corpse falling to the ground a mere few yards or so away. The herds were becoming more frequent, leading both figures to believe that perhaps they would be approaching a city or some well populated-or once-area. Daryl moved a few vehicles down, settling on an old Ford that's window was already cracked for him.

"Anything," Carol called, looking back to her friend.

"Uh..." the man's eyes scanned the vehicle, a slight flutter in his heart occurring when he took notice of something glinting in the ignition spot. A key. "Maybe!"

Smashing the window the rest of the way, Daryl undid the lock from the inside and slipped into the vehicle. Much to his relief, after a few tries, the engine began to whine, the gas meter reading low, but with a decent amount left to get them some mileage. He motioned to Carol, smirking as the woman adjusted her shotgun over her shoulder before hurrying to join him.

"Ain't the best ride," Daryl grinned. "But it sure as hell better than nothin' at all."

With that, he began to stir the vehicle down the road, dodging a few walkers that crossed his path. The sky began to darken, the sun slowly setting over the horizon as the vehicle zoomed past a faded green sign marked Atlanta, Georgia: 20 Miles.

**Sorry for the length lately folks. I promise the next chapter will be extra long to make up for the two parters. Full chapter next time! Time for Daryl to go get his boo back. Also some Hershel and Beth bonding next chapter. Any characters you'd like to see? Don't think I've mentioned Noah yet, maybe he'll make an appearance soon. But in no time, Bethyl will be back together, I promise! Feedback is greatly loved and appreciated, makes the chapters come faster! Considering updating tomorrow, maybe if all goes well I will! Thank you so much for your support! Until next post, folks! -Jen**


	37. Chapter thirty four

**Happy New Year's Day my dear fellow readers! I hope 2015 brings much happiness and joy to each and every one of you! As usual, a wave of thanks to DarylDixon'sLover, mhustler,** **kristelalugo, Ela1980, fancyfaye, KTstoriesandstuff, heatherrk, asseylum, cherrywineBA, Mione788, Joise, Tania Ibarbia, malzateb, GabbyAbby, MamaDCB, CissyDella, angelicedg, ZombertHunter, SirensCalling, beba20000, maryjanewatson, gwenstacy, Spoonlicker, blesdirishangel, Bluemom, TWDFan05, Reignashii, hardygirl87, An Amber Pen, Katarzyna88gb, Shaweena, sportschick44, and zombiegirl56 for your wonderful comments! Now onward to the next chapter!**

Chapter thirty four:

Daryl's fingertips tapped aimlessly on the steering wheel as he guided the old vehicle down the obstructed road. It'd been so long since he'd actually driven anything and yet, instinctively, the memories of how to came back instantly. Carol sat quietly in the passenger seat at his side, her gaze fixed forward as she remained silent. In the distance, both could just make out the skyline of the city of Atlanta. It looked so normal from this spot, void of any walkers or damage. But he knew as they drew closer, the truth would be more evident than not.

"Ain't been to Georgia in so long," the archer muttered, veering the vehicle right as to avoid a knocked over motorcycle. "Grew up in Loganville-small town not too far from the capital. It was me and Merle mostly...when the ass didn't get himself locked up. Weren't that bad when my folks were absent. But I sure as hell don't have any desire to move back there. Not like I could anyways."

He didn't know why he was making small talk. Perhaps it was just to cut the evident tension in the atmosphere. Carol's eyes remained focused forward, her mouth pulled into a firm line as they drew closer to the city. In the several months they had known each other, both had rarely talked about their pasts unless it was over some heavily liquored drink. Carol was the closest thing he had to a best friend, if one would even consider it that. Georgia held memories for them both, the more negative ones present now than those that were good.

"You alright," he asked, peering over at the woman.

"Gotta be," she responded quietly. "Don't we?"

He merely nodded, driving through an intersection as silence fell between them once more. He couldn't help but think of Beth, wondering if she was safe wherever she was being held. He inhaled, fingers tightening around the steering wheel at the thought. He could've saved her if he really had tried. That's what his mind told him at least. If he'd just moved, despite the pain and impending unconsciousness, maybe she'd still be here with him now.

"We'll find her," Carol said, finally turning to meet the man's stare. "She's going to be just fine, Daryl."

"Yep," he answered stiffly. "They sure as hell better hope she is."

A gray sky loomed overhead, bringing with it the promise of snowflakes or perhaps a rain shower. He hoped it was the second of the two options, snow-despite Georgia's climate-being the last thing he wanted to deal with at the moment. Shifting against the back of his seat, he stared forward towards the road. He could already see a few walkers as he entered over the city line, wondering exactly how infested the area was. Cities tended to be more worse off than anything else, people flocking to them in the hopes of a safe zone. But once the military had fallen, it ultimately turned out one of the worse places to be.

"Beth told me about what she wanted to name the baby," Carol said quietly. "Rosie or Wyatt? They're both good names..."

"Told her it was her choice," he mumbled, his gaze fixated on the road for any signs of the vehicle that had taken his wife. "I ain't good at that sort of thing."

"I picked out Sophia's name," she answered. "Named her after my grandmother. The woman practically raised me. My parents weren't bad, but they worked a lot. I mostly spent my time at her house rather than my own home. Used to bake cookies and watch Jeopardy together. She always knew a great deal of the answers. I told her once maybe she should try to go on the show, but she'd only laugh and say she would never be good enough to."

"Never knew my grandparents," Daryl mumbled, peering around at the abandoned vehicles. "Didn't care much for family."

"You care about Beth," the woman stated. "And your baby."

"They're different," he muttered quietly. "Beth's...Beth is different."

He knew Carol knew what he meant, though he couldn't bring himself to say the word. Exhaling, he continued on down the road, a small part of him beginning to fear that maybe they had been going the wrong direction this entire time. That Beth might not even be in Atlanta at all. As the hope of such began to dwindle away, he caught something out of the corner of his eye.

"Is that..." Carol squinted, looking off in the near distance. "Is that another car moving?"

"Yep," Daryl agreed, inhaling sharply as he hit the gas. "It sure as hell is."

Though at this point, it was too far off to make out any markings on it, it was as good a lead as any. Careful as to keep the vehicle insight while not catching its attention, he directed the car in the direction the van was moving. Hope resurfaced in his mind, the thoughts of finding Beth growing ever more prevalent as they continued down the road. They'd find her, he wouldn't stop until they did. And those people, if they had hurt her or even touched her wrong in the slightest way, he was far from feeling the need of humanity today. Beth was his family now, and he would go through hell and back for her. Even if it meant risking his own life.

**xXx**

Her father remained as still as the last time she had seen him in the hospital bed. Beth drew closer, unable to release the breath she hadn't realized she had been holding as she moved to his side. His worn skin was dotted with various bruises and the occasional scratch, but nothing seemed to be outwardly too serious. Chewing on her bottom lip, she reached down and grasped the old man's hand, her fingers trembling as they wound around his own.

"Hi Daddy," she murmured.

She could feel the baby moving around inside of her womb, nudging her as if in comfort. She pressed her free hand to the spot, something about Wyatt's movements reassuring as she continually felt him make his presence known. Exhaling, she watched her father's face carefully, hoping to be reassured by any sign of movement or expression he might make. He wasn't in a coma, that much was told to her by Milton. But still, he struggled to regain consciousness nevertheless.

"It's Beth," she continued, her thumb lightly stroking the top of his skin. "I'm glad you're here. I'm...I'm really happy we aren't alone. But you've gotta wake up, okay?" She glanced towards the door, looking to see if either Milton or Edwards had made themselves present. "We've gotta get outta here, Daddy. It's not safe. We gotta find Daryl and the others, but I can't do that until you wake up."

His hand was warm in her own, though limp as it was. She held it close, watching her father with such a fixated stare, her eyes began to burn from not blinking. They needed to get out of this place. Though Edwards and Milton seemed nice enough, Dawn and whoever else was under her control would be far less likely to let her escape. She needed to think. To plan. Her father would make such more difficult, seeing as he only bore a single leg. But together, they would escape. They had to.

"So you're the new wards then?"

Beth nearly jumped at the voice, turning around to see a woman standing in the door frame. She had been so focused on her father, she hadn't even heard the door open. The figure smirked, moving into the room with a large, plastic trash can rolling behind her. She walked over to the small, white bin near Hershel's bed, emptying the contents into her own before meeting Beth's stare.

"Can you speak?" She enunciated. "Or are you brainless?"

Beth blinked, clearing her throat as the woman eyed her with slight amusement. Her hair was thick, dark and curly and her eyes held much more of an expression than Beth had seen in the other people here. Sighing, the woman extended her hand, Beth taking it after a moment's hesitation.

"Joan," the woman introduced. "And you are..."

"Beth," she answered. "Beth Gr-Dixon."

"Charmed," Joan replied, though her voice dripped with sarcasm. "I see Dawn hasn't assigned you to some task yet. Don't worry, that'll come soon enough." She eyed Hershel, her mouth forming a frown. "Is he dying?"

"What?" Beth responded. "No-no, he's just...he's sleeping."

"Mm," Joan hummed, setting her trashcan upright. "Not that they'd let him do that anyway. Dawn is very set on saving people." She looked at Beth, studying her expression carefully. "So where are you from, blondie? Dawn's party hasn't found a lot of people out in Atlanta in the past few months. Guess they went further out?"

"I was in a group," she explained. "My husband..."

"Figured as much," Joan interrupted, nodding towards Beth's stomach. "Noticed you were sporting some cargo. Haven't seen a baby in ages, or anyone pregnant for that matter. How you've found the time to..." her voice trailed off. "Anyway, it's none of my business and quite frankly, I don't care to know about anyone's sex life." She smirked, leaning against the garbage bin. "Heard you talking to yourself."

Beth paled, her mouth opening without any words escaping. "I don't..."

"Oh come on, blondie," the woman exclaimed, rolling her eyes. "You're as good a liar as you are at celibacy. Don't worry, I'm not gonna rat you out." She paused, seeming to hesitate for a moment. "All I'll say is, you aren't the first one to think of that, nor will you be the last. Dawn isn't soon keen on those trying to escape." Joan shrugged, glancing towards the window. "I tried once, got the crap beaten out of me. Didn't stop me from trying again. Almost got bit too."

"I will get out," Beth replied coolly. "I have to get back to my friends. My family."

"Well keep telling yourself that, blondie," Joan nodded, looking towards Hershel once more. "I guess a little hope didn't hurt anyone. It won't be long before it's gone though." She exhaled, shaking her head. "Look, since you're just sitting her being useless-I don't think the old guy's gonna wake up any time soon. Or at least, enough for you to _try_ to escape. Why don't you help me with the rest of my route? Just gotta couple of rooms left. Could make you useful and I'd appreciate the company."

Beth glanced once at her father, before returning her gaze towards Joan. She needed an ally, someone to help her when the time came. And though Joan was far from ideal, it was in fact, better than having nothing. She nodded her head, not really wishing to leave her father's side. But Edwards and Milton would be back soon enough, she could use some time to stretch her legs.

"Alright," she agreed. "I'll help."

"Good," Joan smirked, pushing the bin towards Beth. "Since you're already carrying, you can pull this too, Cargo."

Beth frowned softly, but took the giant trashcan from the woman. Together they exited the room, entering into the hallway. It would, at least, make for some interesting time passage. Whether or not this would prove to be to Beth's advantage. That much, she knew, would be uncertain until later. For now, she'd help where she was needed. Knowing that soon enough, she'd be far away from this place and back with Daryl as well as the others.

**Much longer chapter, I hope you guys enjoyed. For those who don't know, Joan was the woman whose arm was amputated that Beth assisted with. I was really hoping to see more of her character on the show, but sadly she was killed. But now, as this is my story, I get to play with her as I wish! Feedback is greatly loved and appreciated! I really am thankful for each and every review, no matter the length. Every one gives me inspiration and I seriously appreciate you taking the time to do so! I'll update perhaps tomorrow if motivation finds me. Until next time, folks! -Jen**


	38. Chapter thirty four: Deleted Scene

**Fanfiction is messing up and I'm getting a lot of PMs from you guys either saying you can't see the newest chapter or it isn't allowing you to review. So this is a mini test chapter of sorts to see if this'll fix the problem. Consider this a scene. Feedback is greatly loved and appreciated. I hope this works. **

Chapter thirty four: (Deleted Scene)

Dr. Steven Edwards had been a part of Grady Memorial longer than anyone else. Despite his veteran status to the hospital, such was still pushed aside when Officer Dawn Lerner and her fellow law enforcement officials joined the ranks of the building. Not that he found the need to argue much. Edwards had always been a follower, never brave enough to step forward and be a leader. Though, he did hold some envy when Dr. Milton Mamet came along. Feeling as if his superiority was now being tested by the latest edition to the team.

"Looking at her sonogram photos again?"

Edwards inhaled quietly, holding up one of the images towards the light as Milton entered the room. He had expected the man to stay with Beth, but clearly such hadn't been the case. Frowning softly, he focused his attention on the ultrasound, eyeing the picture with great interest before setting it back down to return to the lab work that had been previously done on Beth.

"Yep," he mumbled. "Just confirming what we already know."

Milton stepped closer, Edwards feeling as if his personal space was being violated as the man did so. Nevertheless, he refrained from saying something, placing the lab results back in their appropriate location. Dawn would demand to see them later, especially if she decided to go ahead and call for the surgery to happen. Much had been kept from Beth Dixon since her arrival at Grady Memorial. Enough that would make her tempted to leave if she hadn't considered the option already.

"Preeclampsia?" Milton questioned, making a grab for one of the test sheets. "Officer Dawn know yet?"

"With Beth's health at risk," Edwards continued. "She'll want an emergency cesarean section. Something I know the mother would never agree to, but we all have sacrifices to make. We'll let her know in due time. For now, we may as well get ready."

"For the surgery?" Milton inquired, setting down the records. "But we haven't the proper equipment for a premature-"

"Dawn says the one who is most likely to survive is of the utmost priority," responded the other doctor. "In that case, the mother comes first, despite what she may or may not want."

Milton fell silent, Edwards knowing that the doctor's heart-as well as his own quite frankly-was not in this decision. He inhaled, straightening up the record's file before setting everything aside. He ignored the picture in the sonogram image as he set the folder on top of it. If it was his choice, he'd save the infant. Knowing Beth would feel the same way. But Dawn was intent on saving those who could survive and a baby was far less likely than its parent.

"When is the operation?"

"Tomorrow," the other man responded, gazing off towards the entrance. "First thing in the morning."

**So basically, what is happening is that Beth has a lot more going on than just Lyme Disease. Because of this, Dawn is concerned about her survival and wants to deliver the baby early to ensue that it occurs. This has all been consented without Beth's knowledge. In other words, Daryl better hurry his butt up and find Beth before something terrible happens. Feedback is greatly loved and appreciated! Please let me know if you can see both this and the previous chapter! -Jen**


	39. Chapter thirty five

**I want to apologize for all of the confusion fanfiction caused yesterday. I posted two chapters and was informed that many of you couldn't see them. I hope such is not the case now. Please let me know if it is. Thank you to those who managed to review or sent me messages. It meant a whole lot! Now it's time for the next chapter, fingers crossed it will work.**

Chapter thirty five:

The muscles in Beth's back ached as she stooped down to collect the garbage bin on the floor. Joan hadn't been completely honest with how many rooms were left, but the girl hadn't mind the lie too much. Joan was proving to be an interesting individual-whenever she chose not to poke fun at Beth. She was from North Carolina originally, made her way down to Georgia some time during the outbreak and ended up here. She spoke fondly of the beaches and being able to go to the ocean whenever she pleased. Beth found this fascinating, seeing as she had never been close enough to any coastline to see the sea.

"Only thing bad about it are the hurricanes," Joan continued, exhaling as she tossed a plastic trash bag filled with various used medical supplies away. "We had to evacuate a few times, not that it would have done much damage where I lived. But safety precautions, you know?"

Beth nodded her head, offering Joan a small smile. Wyatt squirmed within her, becoming far more active the more she moved. She had hoped he'd eventually fall asleep, as she assumed walking was much like rocking, but the boy had as much energy as his father. Which, she assumed, would be interesting once he was born. Beth patted her stomach gently, eyeing the full garbage bin as Joan cracked her fingers, yawning widely as she did so.

"Think that's all of it," she responded, eyeing the mass of twisted bags. "Maybe Dawn will be pleased for once."

"Has Dawn always been like this?" Beth inquired. "So..."

"Bitchy? Yeah," Joan answered, mouth forming a smirk. "Guess that happens when you let the power go to your head."

Beth nodded, refraining from commenting on the officer any more than she had. The last thing she needed was for Dawn to randomly enter the room and overhear the discussion. She'd already had one bad experience with the woman and was not keen on the idea of having another. Inhaling through her nose, Beth began to lug the large, rolling trash can behind her, following Joan as the woman led her from the room.

"So this Daryl guy you've mentioned," Joan began as they moved down the long stretch of hallway. "Boyfriend?"

"Husband," Beth corrected.

"Wow," the other woman replied, sounding somewhat surprised. "Got deep into the relationship there. How'd you meet him?"

"It's..." Beth's voice trailed off, the memories of Hurndon and the Common Law swimming through her mind. "It's a long story."

"I see," Joan nodded, her eyes fixed forward as they continued. "Never really had a boyfriend myself. Don't really...go that way."

"Oh," the girl answered, uncertain as to how to respond. "So you're..."

"Lesbian? Yeah," Joan grinned, turning her head slightly to look at Beth. "Doesn't help much during the apocalypse. Especially not here. But I don't mind. I'm not really interested in the whole romance aspect that comes with being in a dangerous situation. When it comes down to it, I'm all about saving myself. Screw anyone else, you know?"

Beth didn't really understand, the whole wanting to save yourself instead of those you cared about wasn't exactly her mindset. But she humored Joan nevertheless, nodding her head in agreement. As they continued down the hall, Beth was suddenly stopped as Dr. Edwards and Milton entered the walkway, both looking rather surprised to see her out and about. Milton's face held an expression that Beth didn't quite comprehend, almost as if he felt sympathy towards her.

"You shouldn't be walking around so much," Dr. Edwards mumbled, eyeing Joan with a slight frown before returning his gaze towards Beth. "We gave you permission to see your father's room only. Not to go gallivanting about the hospital wing."

"I needed to stretch my legs," Beth tried to explain. "I wasn't doin' anythin' wrong."

"She was helping me," Joan argued, looking to the doctors in disdain.

"That may have been," Edwards answered, eyes still fixated on Beth. "But your condition right now isn't stable enough for you to be wandering around." He exhaled, adjusting his glasses. "It's getting late and you have yet to have your second round of antibiotics, let's just forget this ever happened and return to your room. You can check on your father again in the morning." He looked to Joan. "Have you taken your medicine today?"

"I don't need medicine," Joan glared, clearly displeased by the accusation. "The damn stuff just makes me lethargic. I think Dawn just forces you to give it to me so I don't do 'anything stupid again'."

"Milton, make sure Ms. Hughes gets back to her room before curfew and takes her pills," Edwards sighed, resting his hand on Beth's shoulder. "Come, we'll go to your room and get you hooked back up to your IV. I don't really like the long interval you've been off of it. But I guess having it in through the night will make up for that." He threw Milton one last look before leading Beth away, the girl unable to utter a final word of farewell to Joan as they went.

"How's your father doing?" Edwards asked once they were out of site from Milton and Joan. "Lucid yet?"

"No," Beth responded, doing her best to be civil with the man. "He was sleeping still when I visited." She glanced behind her, the corridor seeming darker the further they went. "What were you and Dr. Mamet doing in that room?"

"It's not important," Edwards answered, leading Beth back into her own room. "Why don't you lay down and get comfortable? I'll get the medicine ready and we can call it a night, yes? Tomorrow's going to be a big day, better be rested up instead of not."

Something about his words didn't bring much comfort to the youngest Greene daughter as she did what she was told. Wincing slightly as the needle entered her arm, Beth settled back against the pillows, finding some relief for her aching muscles. Edwards worked quietly, not offering much conversation as he reattached the IV to his patient. Once he was finished, he stepped back, adjusting his glasses once more.

"Just shout if you need anything," he explained. "My room isn't too far from yours. I'll be able to hear you."

"Thank you," Beth nodded, a hand resting on her stomach. "Goodnight, Dr. Edwards."

"Goodnight, Beth," the man responded, disappearing from sight.

Unconsciousness began to tug at Beth's limbs, the need to sleep becoming more prevalent the more the minutes ticked away. She remained still, feeling the flutters from the baby as she gazed thoughtfully towards the window. At some point, she inadvertently fell asleep as the sudden shaking of her shoulder brought her to with a frightening inhale of surprise. Milton stood over her, his face shadowed back the darkness as he leaned in close.

"Come on," he whispered, pulling the IV from her arm. "We've got to get you out of here."

"What?" Beth murmured, shaking her head in confusion. "Dr. Mamet, what's goin-"

"No time to explain," Milton responded, helping Beth to her feet. "Look, there's a passageway in the basement of the hospital. If you use it, you'll be able to get to the outside. I can't give you a weapon, not one of real use at least. But dawn isn't for another five hours. You should be able to make it far enough on foot to-"

"I'm not leavin' my father," she answered, meeting the man's desperate gaze. "I can't just..."

"You don't have a choice," Milton explained quickly, his hands resting on either of Beth's shoulders. "Beth, if you don't get out of here, your baby will be dead by morning."

Her stomach dropped at his words, blood running cold. She looked to his features, hoping to find some sort of humor in them. There was none. Beth's hand rested on her stomach, feeling her son kick and squirm within. Thoughts running rampant, she glanced towards the door. Her baby or her father, those were her two options now. Beth swallowed hard, her heart pounding heavily against her chest.

"Alright," she murmured. "I'll go. But my father-"

"We'll figure it out," Milton muttered quietly, going around the room in search of the clothes Beth came with. "Get dressed, we don't have much time."

Beth didn't understand what was happening, why her child was to be put in harm's way. But she was his mother, and she would go first before allowing anything to happen to him. Nodding her head, Beth slipped into her clothes, breathing in and out slowly as she went. Joan. Her father. They needed to escape too. But planning was now less of an option than ever. Wyatt's safety was more of a priority than anything else.

Even if it meant abandoning her parent.

**I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I sort of ship Tara and Joan so you'll definitely be seeing more of Joan in this story. Feedback is greatly loved and appreciated, if this gets a good amount of a response, I'll post Daryl's POV in eight to nine hours from now. Also, if you weren't able to respond to the two other chapters, I'd love to hear your thoughts on those as well. Until next post, folks! -Jen**


	40. Chapter thirty six

**I hate short chapters, but I really want to post frequently so here is today's update! Over 1,600 reviews! You guys are so incredible! Thank you so, so much! I'm just awestruck! Okay, as usual, a tremendous mountain of gratitude to Dearmegan7, ledanna, staceycoonan, Bluemom, missy7293, catydavy, MamaDCB, Tania Ibarbia, rckyfrk, Spoonlicker, darkmagic77, Twiheart0124, mhustler, angelicedg, gwenstacy, heatherrk, Katarzyna88gb, maryjanewatson, goshbirdie, krysx3, xX-LadyScarlettDixon-Xx, sportschick44, Anara, engineergirl86, malzateb, kristelalugo, Joise, An Amber Pen, Ela1980, hardygirl87, brady66, Peeca151, bluebook1496, DarylDixon'sLover, and sillymommy2010 for your awesome, incredible reviews! Now for the next chapter!**

Chapter thirty six:

The moon seemed much larger in the sky than it had in many days as Daryl Dixon gazed out towards Grady Memorial Hospital. His fingers itched, every muscle in his body tense as he heard the faint murmur of Carol on the radio. He knew that it was for the best. That having Rick and most of the group present was better than going in alone. They hadn't any idea how many people they would be facing or if Beth was even located in there for that matter. But they had to try. For her, it was a must.

"We're about twenty two miles out," the woman muttered, glancing out of the window. "Once you enter the city, it shouldn't be too hard to find."

_"I know the hospital," _came Rick's voice, static sounding and broken. _"Had a few victims there back in my law enforcement days." _

"Daryl and I are waiting in a car," she responded. "About a block or so from the hospital. We aren't sure how many people are inside. Just that there were two figures clearly in the vehicle was saw pull up."

_"Good," _the sheriff answered. "_Stay where you are. We'll head your way. Not sure how long it'll take us. We should be there by morning if nothing holds us up." _

Morning. Sunrise was hours away and the thought of the delayed period of time twisted in the archer's stomach. He needed to get to Beth now. To Hershel. If something had happened to them, or could in the time it took Rick and the others to arrive, he'd never forgive himself. He'd never forgive Rick. Chewing on the inside of his cheek, Daryl gripped the steering wheel, mouth pressed into a thin line as he stared forward. His wife and unborn child were inside of that building and here he sat idly waiting for help. Such seemed ridiculous now. And yet, in a rational mindset, he knew it was for the best.

_"Keep the talkie on so we can communicate," _Rick instructed Carol. _"If anything changes, let me know. Hang tight, Daryl." _

"Right," he managed to mutter in response, inhaling heavily as he gazed towards the building again. "Got it."

There was a soft hum as the radio fell silent, Carol resting the device in her lap as she gazed at the archer. Daryl looked away, his own stare still fixated on the hospital. He flinched inadvertently when she rested her hand on his shoulder, the touch seeming foreign to him now. When she withdrew her hand, he merely sighed, fingers tightening unnervingly against the wheel.

"We'll find her," Carol promised. "You know we will."

"No, we don't," he muttered. "For all we know, that damn thing was a decoy. Beth could be hundreds of miles from here now."

He knew that much wasn't true. It would be impossible to be out of the Atlanta area so quickly. They had enough of a hard time making their way into the city in the first place, getting out would be another thing. Daryl closed his eyes momentarily, the need to sleep burning in the back of his skull. He was beyond exhausted, his body still aching from the bus accident. But his own pain was far from the first of his priorities. His family came first. If life taught him anything, it was that.

"Beth always says...not to give up hope," Carol said slowly, seeming to hesitate as she spoke. "I'm not going to give up on her for that reason either. And you shouldn't too."

Daryl inhaled at Carol's words, meeting her gaze for the first time. Here sat his best friend. His sister. From the beginning, Carol had been there despite when she really needn't have been. From his marriage and on, she had supported him. And now, in the face of trouble, she still refused to leave his side. Guilt twisted around the spaces in his rib cage, bubbling and unfurling as he met the woman's stare.

"Thank you," he finally said. "For bein' there for us. I ain't deserve-"

"You deserve more than you give yourself credit for, Daryl Dixon," Carol replied, her mouth curving into a slight smile. "Don't give me that shit. You know I'll just throw it right back."

Daryl snorted, finding humor in something for the first time in days. He felt her fingers rest on his knee, gently squeezing as she offered him the same, small grin. The archer sighed once more, looking out towards the hospital. Beth would be okay. She'd have to be. It'd taken him long enough to realize it, but Beth meant more to him than anything else in the world. Whether he'd be able to admit that was another question. But she did. From the moment they were married up until this point, she had changed his life for the better. Something he knew he hardly deserved despite Carol's words.

"Hey," the smile faded from Carol's face as she seemingly glanced over the man's shoulder. "Someone's coming."

Daryl turned, reaching instinctively for his weapon as a figure came into view. She was running, her arms pumping as she weaved in and out of the various debris that lay scattered across the road. Her dark hair matted against her face, her expression lit in the dim moonlight to reveal a look of panic as her foot caught against something on the ground. The pair watched as she fell, attempting to scramble back to her feet as a few walkers shuffled towards their distressed victim.

"Wait," Carol mumbled, holding up her hand as Daryl adjusted his bow. "We don't know if she's-"

"I ain't gonna let her die," he muttered, exiting from the car. "Not if she could know somethin' bout Beth!"

The creatures stirred at the sound of the vehicle door closing as the archer approached them. In seconds, the corpses fell to the ground, now completely void of animation as Daryl moved towards the woman. She cowered on the ground, mouth slightly ajar as she panted heavily. Her eyes met Daryl's, a look of fear and scorn crossing her features as she reached up to defend herself from his supposed oncoming attack.

"Your name," he growled, uncertain if she happened to be one of the people who had taken Beth. "Who the fuck are you?!"

"Joan," she breathed. "My name is Joan Hughes."

**Short chapter, but clearly Joan escaped. Hm...what does that mean happened to Milton, Hershel, and Beth? Guess you'll have to wait next chapter. Just to be clear though, Beth and Daryl are super close to reuniting. Feedback is greatly loved and appreciated. I'll work really hard to get another chapter posted tomorrow because I really want a bethyl reunion! Also I'm debating whether to let Milton live or not, so your comments could help determine his lifespan as well! I'm going to start having to make people bite the dust, so inform me of those (besides bethyl of course) you'd like to see more of! Until next update, guys! -Jen**


	41. Chapter thirty seven

**I wasn't planning to update this so soon. I've been having a bit of writer's block, but in some cases, you just have to write through it. As usual, an avalanche of thanks to SilentFlame13, Reignashii, , TWDFan05, heatherrk, An Amber Pen, kevkye, gwenstacy, engineergirl86, Ela1980, dickbutt, Mione788, Tania Ibarbia, jcolunga96, Katarzyna88gb, rckyfrk, Spoonlicker, MaidenAlice, kristelalugo, KTstoriesandstuff, Dixongurl, maryjanewatson, DarylDixon'sLover, stacycoonan, Joise MamaDCB, malzateb, angelicedg, and sillymommy2010 for your wonderful feedback messages left for the last chapter. Now for the next installment, this one surprisingly more of Milton's point of view than anything. **

Chapter thirty seven:

Exhaustion and adrenaline twisted into one uneasy motivator as Beth followed Milton into the empty hallway. Her stomach churned, the light squirms from Wyatt only bringing fear at the thought of what the doctor had said. Her son's demise. She couldn't quite comprehend the reasons as to why, nor could manage to get such to escape from Dr. Mamet's lips as they moved down the corridor. Thoughts of her father swarmed her mind, wrapping tendrils of hesitation around her limbs, threatening to tug her back. She couldn't leave him. Not after everything. Not after losing him once before.

"Stop," she murmured, Milton a few feet ahead of her. "Milton, stop."

"What?" The man whispered, his glasses slipping to the edge of his nose. "What's wrong? Can't it wait."

"My father," she exhaled, shaking her head. "I can't...I can't leave him here."

Milton turned, a look of exasperation etched on his features. It was clear that this decision alone had caused him a great deal of stress, but Beth's wish to save her father only added to his anxiety. If Dawn were to discover them, who knew the punishment they'd both face. Not to mention what Edwards would have to say about it. The man sighed, adjusting his glasses on his nose. Beth looked on, her stance firm and unmoving. Her baby's life was of the utmost importance, yes, but her father's livelihood was as well.

"We can carry him if we must," she continued, ignoring the look in the man's stare. "I can't leave him. Not again."

"Even if he were awake at this moment, there is no telling if he would even be in any condition for traveling," Milton tried to argue. "He's safe here, Beth. This place...it's not the best, but it's safe. But not for you, not for your child. Don't you get that?"

"Where I come from," Beth said quietly. "You don't...you don't go abandonin' family."

Milton stiffened, his eyes seemingly focused on both Beth and their surroundings as he stepped forward. His gaze remained stayed, though the look of urgency continued to be etched across his features. They hadn't much time. The guards were known for doing nightly rounds, he'd watched them, of course, on a usual basis. Knew their schedules well enough. But Beth was firm, hardheaded. It would take a lot to convince her to leave, despite the consequences that awaited for her at morning's first light.

"We can check on your father," Milton suggested, knowing he had done such only minutes before. "If he isn't awake yet..."

"He will be," Beth insisted. "I know it."

Beth's hope and enthusiasm for her father's consciousness both tugged at Milton's heart strings while filling him with a twisted annoyance. He exhaled, glancing down the hallway towards the other patient's room. Five minutes. That was all the time he'd be willing to give. Looking towards Beth, he motioned for the girl to follow him. Their footsteps were nearly silent as they traveled down the corridor, entering Hershel's room with the door only slightly creaking in protest.

Though there was only the dim light from the moon to illuminate the hospital room, Beth could make out the figure of her father reclined on the mattress. Quickly she moved to his side, her fingers digging into his shoulder. Milton could hear her whispering to him, her pleas barely audible above the hum from the machines. He watched, his eyes fixated on the pair as the girl's desperation grew ever more present.

"Wake up, Daddy," Beth murmured. "We have to get out of here."

"Beth..." Milton sighed, adjusting his glasses as they slipped down onto his nose. "We really must go. He isn't..."

A soft groan escaped from the older man's lips, his features scrunching into a look of confusion. Milton watched in absolute astonishment as Hershel's eyes fluttered open, his mouth moving ever so slightly as if questioning what had occurred. Beth looked to Milton with a watery grin, her fingers reaching down to grip her parent's hand. Hershel looked to his daughter, still evidently uncertain as to what was happening.

"Daddy," she whispered. "I know you've gotta have a lot of questions, but...but I'll answer everythin' later. Right now, we gotta get outta here."

Milton took a few steps forward, offering the girl's father a small, thin smile. Without a word, he moved to help the man stand, Hershel eyeing him with uncertainty. The man wobbled slightly on his one good foot, fingers digging into Milton's shoulder as he steadied himself. Beth exhaled, a look of relief crossing her features as she moved to gather her father's shoe from the floor. Later he'd be able to change into his previous attire, but for now, the hospital gown would have to do.

"Come, Daddy," Beth murmured. "We just have to get to the-"

Beth's words were silenced as the door opened, a figure who was all too familiar standing in its frame. Edwards. The doctor glared menacingly at Milton, taking a few more steps into the room as he did. Milton froze, his heart pounding against his rib cage. This wasn't supposed to happen. They were supposed to have gotten out before this. Edwards looked from Hershel to Beth, his eyes slightly narrowed as he put two and two together.

"The surgery is for her safety, Dr. Mamet," Edwards said slowly. "As protocol, you know I have to report this."

"Come with us, Edwards," Milton insisted. "You don't...you don't have to stay."

"And be out there in the world surrounded by walkers?" the other doctor argued. "A life of labor is certainly more appealing than that." His gaze turned to Beth, his hand outstretched to yank his patient back. "I can't let you go," he tried to explain. "I won't have you get the rest of the hospital in-"

Edwards suddenly became quiet, his pupils dilating as he took a wavering step forward. To Milton's horror, he watched as his coworker fell to his knees, seemingly collapsing to the floor lifeless. Wedged in the back of his skull, something glinted in the pale moonlight. Scissors. The man's gaze rose, meeting the assailant as she stood before them. Joan. The woman offered a crooked smile, leaning against the door frame.

"I never was quite fond of him," she commented, gazing down at Edwards before lifting her eyes. "Planning on leaving me out of this, Cargo?"

"Joan," Beth breathed, her mouth curving into a smile. "I..."

"Save it," the woman interrupted, looking behind her shoulder. "We've got to go. Milton?"

"Right," the doctor nodded weakly, his eyes still fixed on the corpse. "Right, we need to...the basement."

With Milton's assistance for Hershel's sake, the group for four moved quickly through the hall. Joan led the way, her pace much faster than the rest. As they neared the elevator shaft, Hershel's stumbled forward, falling briefly as Milton attempted to catch him. Beth stopped, her father's name slipping from her mouth just as two beams of light glared against her features.

"Hey," a guard called out. "You! Stop!"

Beth turned, watching as Joan took off, abandoning them as the men drew closer. Without thinking of her own safety, the girl moved to her father's side, ignoring the sounds of the guns being cocked as she helped Milton bring the older man back to his feet. Hope drained from Beth's mind as the two guards pointed their handguns directly at the trio, unaware of Joan's escape. They were trapped, Beth's fingers tightening around her weakened father's forearm.

"Take them to Dawn," one of the officers said to the other. "She's gonna want to hear this."

Milton looked to Beth, his expression apologetic as the guard urged them to move forward. He had failed her. As they began their journey in the opposite direction, Milton caught a glimpse of the horizon through the window. It glowed a deep orange, the sun slowly beginning to slip into the sky. Morning. His stomach churned, Beth's life and that of her child's now more at risk than ever. The light faded as they left the open entrance of the room, any hope either of the three had disappearing with it.

**Next chapter is going to be a long one, and is coincidentally the one everyone has been asking for. Yes folks, expect some bethyl next chapter! Feedback is greatly loved and appreciated. If as much as a fifth of you reviewed, I cannot tell you how much that would mean. We writers live off of comments. They mean a lot no matter the length. Anyway, I may update again tonight if motivation finds me! Until next time, Jen!**


	42. Chapter thirty eight

**I am just so honored that people are enjoying this story! It means the world to me! As usual, a wave of gratitude to** **Lulu Martin, jcolunga96, Zzah, Spoonlicker, darkmagic77, .75, Joise, engineergirl86, Tania Ibarbia, An Amber Pen, ameswilf, krysx3, Jackiemgomez, hmatlock, maryjanewatson, lulu52, malzateb, sportschick44, angelicedg, kristelalugo, syzygy101, , AmberL79, asseylum , mhustler, blesdirishangel, MamaDCB, Dixongurl, heatherrk, kevkye, cherrywineBA, Anara, Ela1980, Katarzyna88gb, Reignashii , rckyfrk, StephMcG, DarylDixon'sLover,****and ****sillymommy2010 **** for your wonderful reviews left for the last chapter! Now the chapter you've all been waiting for! Enjoy!**

Chapter thirty eight:

Joan stood firmly in her place, her eyes meeting Daryl's as her chest rose and fell with each breath. The archer stared the woman down carefully, his gaze falling downward as if half expecting for her to suddenly draw a weapon at him. In a matter of moments, Carol was at his side, her own weapon posed as she pointed it towards the stranger. Joan looked to them both solemnly, humor slightly playing on her lips in complete disbelief at her once again, supposed misfortune.

"Are you going to kill me," she asked quietly. "It wouldn't be the first time someone's tried."

"I wanna know what's goin' on in that damn hospital," Daryl growled, pointing towards the building. "And what the fuck happened to my family."

"Your family?" Joan inquired, her brows knitting together. "You mean the new people? Beth and whatever the heck her dad's name is?"

Daryl stiffened at the mention of his wife's name. So she was there. Relief and fear both flooded into his chest, oxygen filling his lungs with a sharp sting as he inhaled deeply. Joan looked on perplexed, seemingly uncertain as to what the man had planned. He felt Carol's hand rest on his shoulder, her fingers tightening around the bone as he met the stranger's stare. If she had gotten out of the hospital, then he was nearly certain she knew how to get back in.

"You're gonna take us inside," Daryl said to Joan.

"Daryl," Carol began to protest. "We really should wait for-"

"There ain't no time to just sit around and goddamn wait for somethin' to happen to them," the archer argued, looking to the stranger. "Take us in now."

"What makes you think I'm willing to?" Joan replied, folding her arms over her chest. "You have no idea who you're going against in there."

"I don't think you got much of a choice," he answered coldly, nodding towards Carol's gun. "Lead the way."

Joan visibly grew rigid, her stance still as she gazed towards the other woman and the weapon. For months she'd been trying to escape Grady Memorial, the number of times countless. And though she knew Beth hadn't deserved her desertion, she was finally free. But now, after everything, she was made to be going back there. Daryl watched her silently, Joan's shoulders sinking in defeat as she merely nodded her head.

"Fine," she mumbled. "I'll show you how to get in. But you're on your own after that."

Against the black asphalt, walkers drug their leprous limbs, guided by nothing but the sounds of their own snarls as Daryl along with the two women slipped past the creatures. The wind blew, the air cool against the archer's skin as they journeyed to what looked to be an old trash shoot. Daryl turned to Joan, the woman shrugging in response as he noticed the pile of corpses, heads clearly destroyed long ago, lying underneath it.

"You're going to have to shimmy your way up it," Joan said quietly. "Other way's locked from the inside."

Daryl eyed the dark opening with a great deal of hesitation. It wasn't the most ideal route he'd had in mind, but Beth was trapped inside. Chewing on the inside of his cheek, he nodded, not glancing back at either of the two companions as he spoke.

"Gimme a leg up," he muttered, flinging his crossbow over his shoulder. "If I ain't back in twenty minutes, go back to the car and radio Rick. Let 'em know what's goin' on."

"Let me go with you," Carol insisted, meeting the man's gaze. "You shouldn't go alone."

"Someone needs to watch her," he explained, nodding to Joan. "I'll be fine."

There was an expression etched into Carol's features that Daryl had never seen before. Something in her eyes that he just couldn't put his finger on. He exhaled, holding his arms up towards the chute. With slight difficulty, they managed to hoist him up, Daryl's fingers hooking around a grate inside of the metal contraption. Teeth clenched together, he drug himself up, the thin bars digging into his skin as he went.

The smell was worse than anything he had experienced before. Rancid. Rotten. Decaying stench combined with what could only be spoiled foods and body fluids. His stomach twisted, nausea and bile rising in his throat as he pressed on deeper, what little light there was from below disappearing.

Daryl silently found gratitude in the fact that he didn't suffer from claustrophobia as the walls seemed to become closer to his frame the further he went. Something wet and greasy smeared against his right arm as he pulled himself towards the small, square of glowing light in the near distance. He tried not to think of what it was as he continued on, relief finding him as he managed to bring himself to the new opening.

Elbows posed outward as a means of leveling himself, Daryl peered into the interior. The halls of the hospital were dark, lit only by a dim overhanging system of lights that didn't prove to do much despite their purpose. Glancing around, half expecting someone to appear, he managed to slip out, straightening up as he looked down the corridor.

"Is the patient secure," a distant, but clearly feminine voice demanded. "And the other?"

"Yes, Officer Dawn," answered another. "And Dr. Mamet-"

"You needn't worry about him," Dawn answered. "I've got him covered."

Their footsteps sounded as if they were becoming further away from where Daryl was located as he stood silently listening. Rage bubbled in his gut at their words, not needing any names to know who they were referring to. Swallowing as he ignored the aroma that had smeared itself across his figure, he began to move quietly down the hall, hand reaching back to grab his crossbow if anyone intended to make him use it.

Most of the doors were closed, silence seeming to hang heavy over their entrance ways. He moved past them quietly, glancing towards one occasionally in question. As he moved to turn a corner, he found himself face to face with a figure. The man looked at him wide-eyed, his hand flying to grab his weapon before Daryl dug his foot into the stranger's knee. The man sunk to the ground, a low hiss of pain escaping from his mouth as Daryl knelt in front of him, withdrawing one of his arrows.

"There's a blonde girl here," he muttered quietly, meeting the man's stare. "Where is she?"

"You'll have to be more specific than that," the man snarled, lips forming a thin smirk. "I don't tend to remember women by the color of their hair."

Without much thought, Daryl dug the point of the arrow into the man's thigh, a hand clamping over the guard's mouth to stifle the scream. He withdrew it quickly, the tip glistening with the bright red blood from the man's body. He could see the stranger's chest rising and falling, the pain seemingly intense as he made sure the guard met his gaze. Fear and anguish were evident in his eyes as Daryl began to speak, his voice soft, but chilling.

"If you scream," he growled. "I will kill you. Now the girl, she's pregnant. Where the fuck is she?"

"Last room..." the man whispered hoarsely, grunting as Daryl's fingers dug into his wound. "Last room, I swear!"

Daryl stared at the man for a moment, watching as the guard's adam's apple rose and fell with each breath. "Sorry, brother," he muttered, raising the arrow before lodging it deep into the figure's temple.

The man's body jerked, limbs going rigid before they slumped loosely at his sides. Daryl rose, a small trickle of crimson leaking from the pierced wound as the guard lie dead before him. He glanced in the direction the man had told him to go, ignoring the corpse as he moved quickly down the hall. Soon enough someone would find the body, he didn't have time to be there when they did.

Placing the arrow back in its holder, he approached the last door, noting that it was slight ajar compared to the others. His pace quickened, hand reaching out to grasp the wood as he pulled it open. There, right in the center of the room, his immediately landed on her. Beth. She lay sprawled on a hospital cot, her arms bond by the wrists to the metal railings of the bed. When she took notice of him, his name ghosted past her lips, a look of terror and relief crossing her features. Daryl's heart thudded in his chest as he moved to her side, anger and the mere comfort of seeing her alive twisting within him at once.

"Daryl," Beth whispered, her voice hoarse. "My father…"

"It's okay," he murmured. "It's alright. I got you."

He tugged at the restraints, trying his best not to harm his wife. In the distance, he could hear footsteps coming closer to where he stood. Thoughts swarmed him mind, panic and desperation intertwining as he undid the first knot from around the raw and torn skin of her arm. He quickly turned to the next, removing it at once from where it dug into her flesh. He didn't even think as he pulled her up, her arms constricting around him in a tight embrace.

"Daryl," she whispered, the name slightly breaking on her tongue.

"I'm so sorry," he mumbled, holding her close. "I'm so sorry."

It felt so good, so right to hold her. The feel of her body against his own. Her blonde hair tickling underneath his nose. He pressed his face to the top of her head, forgetting the danger at once as he held her. Just held her right there without another care in the world. For a moment. Everything seemed right. Everything was okay and was going to remain that way. As he pulled back, his mouth forming into a sort of weak smile as he met her gaze, a cold voice caused the hairs on the back of his neck to stand.

"Visitors aren't allowed after hours," Officer Dawn muttered quietly, standing in the entrance way with her weapon pointed directly at the pair.

Daryl shifted Beth behind him, blocking her body with his own as the other woman moved closer. After everything, everything they had been through, they were in trouble once more. He heard the click of the revolver as the woman cocked it, her gaze firm and focused on Daryl's head as she paused where she stood. He could hear Beth's breathing behind him, her body close enough that he could the heat that escaped from it.

"I'm sorry," she apologized, looking past the man towards Beth. "It didn't have to be this way."

"Daryl!" Beth cried out, trying to shove her husband aside as the gun rose.

Then came the gunshot, the noise echoing as the body crumpled to the ground.

Complete, and utter silence filling the tension based air.

**Oh no! Who was shot?! Well you'll have to wait until next chapter! But hey, a Bethyl reunion! Feedback is greatly loved and appreciated-it may save a certain person's life (just kidding! But every little bit helps *winky face*) Let me know your thoughts! Who you think was shot. Motivate me to post tomorrow or perhaps even a blip tonight! You never know! Thanks so much folks! Until next time! -Jen**


	43. Chapter thirty nine

**Quick post for you folks! I'll give you another perhaps later tonight! You guys are truly amazing, you know that? Okay! So a tremendous earthquake of gratitude to An Amber Pen, Ela1980, rckyfrk, ZombertHunter, Maddie, Peeca151, maryjanewatson, gwenstacy, ouat-twd, hmatlock, Tania Ibarbia, darkmagic77, daylightspeaks, Smidget, angelicedg, kristelalugo, mhustler, kevkye, sportschick44, MamaDCB, brady66, Fremione-lover16, KTstoriesandstuff, engineergirl86, KelseyNicole08, dee22dee, TWDFan05, heatherrk , MaidenAlice, Dixongurl, Kagome0101, Serialkillingyou, jp, sillymommy2010, malzateb, DarylDixon'sLover, and Katarzyna88gb for your lovely, very motivating reviews! Now onward, my fellow readers, to the next chapter!**

Chapter thirty nine:

Dawn's body lay lifeless on the floor, her eyes still wide open as they gazed unfocused into nothingness. Behind where she had previously been, a man stood with a pistol still quivering in his grasp. Milton. Bruised and bloodied, he looked towards Beth and Daryl, uncertainty and fear in his eyes as he let the weapon drop. Daryl released the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding as Beth quickly left his side, hurrying over to the doctor as she flung her arms around him.

"Milton," she exclaimed. "I thought...I thought she'd killed you."

"Milton?" Daryl questioned, watching his wife's embrace loosened from around the man. "Who the hell is he?"

Though he wouldn't admit it aloud, the archer was slightly jealous of the new figure. The man adjusted his glasses, offering Daryl a meek smile as he stepped forward, hand extended in friendship. When Daryl didn't accept, he let his arm fall awkwardly back at his side. Beth moved back beside her husband, a hand resting on his forearm as the doctor inhaled, the mere motion seeming slightly painful.

"I'm Dr. Milton Mamet," he explained. "I'm Beth's...friend."

"I owe a lot to him," Beth replied, meeting Daryl's incredulous stare. "He saved my life. Twice."

"Well I wouldn't go that far as to say that," Milton smiled weakly. "But thank you."

Daryl's mouth twitched into a small frown, his eyes glancing towards the door. Soon enough the guards would discover them, and Hershel was still unaccounted for. He felt Beth's fingers tighten around his arm, his gaze meeting hers briefly. It still had yet to sink in that she was safe. That he had her back and wouldn't allow anyone to take her away from him again. Sighing, he looked towards Milton, the man wiping gently underneath his bloodied nose.

"You know where Hershel is?" He asked, trying to remain somewhat nonchalant in his tone.

"I do," he said slowly. "They have him in a room not too far from here. At least, they did when Dawn was taking me to her office."

"C'mon," Beth said gently. "Let's get him and get outta here. I don't like hospitals."

* * *

><p>By the time they exited the building, the sun had just about rose over the horizon. Carol and Joan stood off to the side, hurrying over once they saw the trio. Joan looked towards Milton with a slight expression of disgust, clearly not pleased to see the doctor despite his help earlier. The older woman merely smiled in relief, pulling Beth into a quick embrace before stepping back to look Daryl over.<p>

"Rick's almost here," she explained. "I told him what's going on. I think we could meet them half way. The car's still got some gas."

"Is everyone else alright?" Hershel asked, speaking up for the first time since exiting Grady Memorial. "Maggie?"

"They're fine," Carol assured him. "The rest of us were banged up at most." She exhaled, glancing behind her towards the fence where the car lay hidden among some of the more damaged pieces of automobile equipment. "We can talk more in the car. I don't want to stand out here like a sitting duck."

Daryl nodded in agreement, feeling Beth's hand intertwine with his own as they moved away from the building. As they walked, Beth's gaze turned to meet her husband, a soft smile playing on her features. Daryl looked back at her curiously, uncertain as to what brought on the sudden sprig of happiness. He watched as the girl lightly touched her stomach with her free hand, her eyes flickering down to rest on it.

"It's a boy," she said quietly. "The doctors...we're havin' a boy."

A boy. A son. The words replayed in his mind as they approached the car. He didn't know exactly what to say, especially after everything they had gone through. But joy. A sliver of excitement and fear found him at the announcement. The idea of fatherhood returning to his mind as he slid into the back of the car beside Beth and Milton. Beth grinned, watching his expression carefully as she waited for him to respond.

"That's..." his voice trailed off. "That's great."

"Really?" Beth inquired, worry briefly crossing her features. "You seem hesitant."

"No," he assured her, forcing a smile onto his features. "No, I'm happy. This...it's the damn best news I've heard in a long time."

"Wyatt," she murmured, placing Daryl's hand on the apex of her stomach. "Our baby boy."

Against his palm, he felt the familiar flutters from the baby, not realizing until that moment how much he missed the sensation. He settled back against his seat, Beth's head resting on his shoulder as Carol pulled the car away from their parking place and began to drive down the road. For the first time in hours, he felt like he could truly breathe again. That they would reconnect with the group and the journey to Washington could begin again.

"Beth," Milton's voice interrupted, breaking Daryl's train of thought. "I really...need to talk to you and Daryl about something. It's about the baby."

There was concern in the doctor's tone, enough that it sent shivers down the archer's spine. He turned, looking to Beth who looked equally as uncertain as he felt. As he looked towards the man, ready to ask exactly what the hell he was talking about. Carol unexpectedly hit the breaks, causing the car to lurch forward. Daryl held out his arm, preventing Beth from slamming forward as the tires squealed to a halt.

There, standing in the center of a road, stood a tall figure. One of his forearms was completely gone, replaced with what appeared to be some sort of blade. He stood grinning ear to ear, blood and mud caked on his clothing as his gaze focused on the vehicle. Daryl felt his blood run cold, disbelief and astonishment finding him as he met the man's stare, a look equally as surprised and yet, humorous crossing the familiar man's features.

Merle.

**So I really wanted to bring Merle into this story. Mostly because I really want to build a bond between him and Beth (not romantic, of course!). Feedback is greatly loved and appreciated! It seriously keeps me updating! And I cannot believe how close this story is to 2,000 reviews! I'll do something special once it reaches that. Also I have a surprise in store. Hopefully she'll (yes, it's a fantastic artist) this weekend! So stay in tune! Alright guys, let me know what you'd like to see! I'll be updating again shortly! -Jen**


	44. Chapter forty

**I have work today, but I wanted to get something out. I get off in seven hours, so I'll probably have something to post around 10:00-10:30 EST time. Huge thanks to those who reviewed! My ipod is currently dead, so I'm unable to type out usernames, but I am SO very grateful for each and every review no matter the length! Seriously guys, it keeps these updates coming daily! Alright, enough of my chatter, let's go meet Merle, shall we?**

Chapter forty:

He was dead. Daryl Dixon was certain he had died. He'd watch with his very own eyes as the herd converge onto his brother, tearing away at him like vultures on roadkill. And yet, there he stood, right in the middle of the road with that same crazed expression he knew so well. The archer held his breath, eyes still locked on his brother as the sound of a gun being cocked met his ears. He looked forward, seeing Carol hurriedly messing with her weapon, ready to official end the life of the man blocking their path.

"Wait," Daryl intervened, desperation slipping into his tone. "Don't shoot! It's my damn brother!"

"Your...brother?" Carol inquired, turning her head to look at him. "You told me he was dead."

"I thought he was," he exclaimed, exhaling as he stared towards Merle again. "I saw him die. I mean, I coulda swore I did."

"Well clearly you didn't," Joan commented, watching as the stranger drew closer. "Nice looking fella. Even more so with a fucking knife coming out of his arm."

Daryl ignored the sarcasm that dripped from Joan's tone as he made his way out of the vehicle. Merle grinned widely, stepping quickly towards his siblings. Daryl did not return his enthusiasm, his gaze transfixed on the brother he had been so sure was gone. The older Dixon slapped his brother's shoulder with his good hand, looking the man up and down with a scoff. Clearly, Merle hadn't changed a bit, despite what the many months had done to him since their last meeting.

"I..." Daryl's voice trailed off for a moment. "How did you-"

"Ain't nobody can kill me 'cept me," Merle smirked, meeting his brother's gaze. "Miss me, little brother?"

He was at a lost for words, attention so focused on Merle, he hadn't even heard Beth exit the car. She walked up to his side, her own eyes watching Merle as the man's brow knitted into a look of confusion and amusement. Daryl turned his head, eyeing his wife quietly as she studied her apparent brother-in-law. Merle snorted, then looked from his brother and back to the girl, clearly uncertain as to what he was seeing.

"Seems like you downgraded your companion choices since we parted," Merle commented, nodding towards Beth's stomach. "A college bitch? Really, Daryl, I thought you'd have better sense than to-"

"She's my wife," Daryl replied, cutting his brother off coldly. "And you ain't doin' yourself no favors talkin' shit bout her."

The amusement faded from Merle's face briefly, only so a look of giddiness could replace it. Daryl felt his blood run hot as Merle began to laugh, his head shaking as he looked from Beth to his brother in utter disbelief. Daryl felt Beth's fingers wind their way around his bicep, applying such enough pressure so he knew she was present. He inhaled heavily, unsure if he was more annoyed at his brother's reaction or relieved that the son of a bitch was alive.

"Married? You?" He choked, shaking his head in astonishment. "Knocked her up too I see."

He was in no mood to give details of how such had occurred. About Hurndon. The Common Law. He merely eyed his brother, still numb from the realization that Merle was alive. Though quite frankly, he knew he shouldn't be as surprised as he was. It wasn't the first time Merle had overcome death. Even before the outbreak, he had managed to involve himself in some pretty risky situations, most ending him up in jail. Daryl looked to Beth, his wife offering him a small smile in return.

"So where the hell have you been all this time?" He inquired, eyeing his brother's lost hand.

"Around," Merle replied nonchalantly. "Ended up back in Atlanta a few weeks back. Fuckin' walkers makin' it shit though." He peered towards the car, the other occupants still inside. "You gonna invite me in, or do I have to do that myself?"

Daryl wasn't sure what he should do in this situation. It really wasn't his call. Though he didn't want to leave Merle, despite his brother being the biggest asshole there was, he had a group now. His own decisions now democratic rather than how it used to be on his own. Merle wasn't a bad guy...in some small sense. But having him around, exposing Beth to him, he wasn't quite sure.

"Gotta talk to the others," he mumbled, looking to Beth. "It ain't up to just me anymore."

"Seriously?" Merle scoffed. "I'm your own damn brother. You'd fuckin' abandon me again?"

"I thought you were dead," Daryl shot back defensively. "It wasn't my choice!"

"We agreed to stick together," Merle argued. "And you fuckin' went off and left me to die."

Anger and guilt twisted in Daryl's chest as he turned away, walking back to the car in order to speak to the others. When he turned, expecting Beth to follow, she remained facing Merle. He lips pressed firmly together, watching as his brother smirked at his wife. Beth did not appear to be upset or even judgmental of the other man for that matter. She merely offered a small smile, extending her hand towards his good one.

"Beth Greene," she spoke. "Daryl's told me a lot about you."

He hadn't really, maybe mentioned Merle off key on the occasional conversation. But Merle seemed to raise his eyebrow in slight surprise, glancing down at Beth's hand before astonishingly taking it. Beth exhaled, a smile playing on her lips as she shook it. Daryl glanced towards the others, their eyes watching the introduction with as much curiosity as he felt.

"You ain't seem like the kinda girl who'd go for my brother," were the words that first slipped from Merle's mouth. "Ain't in the least bit."

"Your brother is a good man," Beth countered. "Anyone would be lucky to have him."

"If you even knew half the shit he's done, you wouldn't be sayin' that," Merle snorted. "Ain't nothin' can change a Dixon, sweetheart. Not even you."

"Everyone can change," she replied. "You just gotta give them the chance."

As Daryl turned his attention to Carol, the woman having rolled down the window, he happened to glance off towards the distance. There, not but a few hundred yards away, was what appeared to be a large group of figures. Not walkers, their steps were too steady. Rick. Relief and uncertainty found the archer as the others stepped from the car. Daryl watched as the other members approached, his mind intertwined with so many various thoughts as Beth returned to his side.

Reunited once again, but whether Merle would screw this up for the lot of him, that much Daryl Dixon was unsure of.

**So I'm really excited for Merle in this story. Again, as I said, he'll play a decent part, especially for what I have planned. *rubs hands together manically* Feedback is greatly loved and appreciated! It seriously does impact updates. And if this gets a decent amount of reviews by tonight, I'll have a nice big fluffy Beth scene for you guys next chapter. I know you've been waiting for it! Anyway, off to work now! Until later on tonight! -Jen**


	45. Chapter forty one

**I wasn't going to update, but I had promised I would. I hope people are still enjoying this story and that I'm not boring you because I update so often. I've been getting quite a few tumblr anons about it and it's a little upsetting. Anyway, huge thanks to rckyfrk, Peeca151, kristelalugo, Katarzyna88gb, Lauralove163, kevkye, Lulu Martin, angelicedg, Joise, malzateb, lulu52, mhustler, Dixongurl, Ela1980, ameswilf, Spoonlicker, Natercia, Tania Ibarbia, Heatherrk, An Amber Pen, and DarylDixon'sLover for your lovely reviews. It means a lot. Here's the next chapter.**

Chapter forty one:

Rick eyed the three newcomers with great hesitation, his gaze flickering from Joan to Merle to Milton. Their group was already so large as it was, the rations being cut incredibly short because of it. But having extra sets of eyes always proved to be useful in the long run. For months, it had been just him and his two children, escaping from walkers and whatever else after they were separated from their other companions. Now, with a group so large, much had changed. Daryl's gaze focused on his brother, praying silently that Merle didn't say anything that would fuck him over as Rick stepped closer to the trio.

"These are my people," the sheriff began, nodding to the crowd that stood behind them. "And there as good as family at this point. Now Carol and the rest are willin' to vouch for you. I can't say that I feel the same way, but I ain't gonna just leave ya'll because of that." He looked to Merle, the gaze met with a look of disdain from the elder Dixon. "Your brother's a good man," he said quietly. "I hope the same goes for you."

"There ain't no such thing as a good person anymore," Merle replied coldly. "You're either a survivor or you're dead. There ain't no in between."

Daryl pressed his lips firmly together as Rick eyed his brother intensely. Finally, the sheriff nodded, taking a step back from the older brother. Daryl could feel Beth at his side, her body pressed lightly against his own. It was a comforting feeling. Having her so close once again. He turned to her, her mouth curving into a smile as she met his stare. After everything she had been through, she still held an amount of happiness he'd never understand.

"Counting all those kids you're carting," Joan interrupted, Rick's attention turning to the woman. "You need all the extra man power you can get."

"I'm a doctor," Milton added quietly. "I'm not much when it comes to fighting. But-but I know a thing or two about medicine." His eyes landed on Beth, a feeling of discomfort creeping up Daryl's spine as he took notice. "I won't be a burden."

"Okay," Rick said after a moment. "You get one shot. If any of you mess up, you're out. We don't give second chances."

"And who exactly put you in charge?" Merle inquired, jabbing his blade toward the sheriff. "I ain't give no vote."

"Enough, Merle," Daryl warned. "Just shut the hell up for once."

Merle glared at his brother, looking as if he wanted to add a few choice words in a response, but surprisingly said nothing. Daryl breathed out through his nose, feeling Beth;s fingers lace with his own as they looked towards Rick. Father Gabriel stood off to the side, looking pale underneath his dark skin as Rick moved to speak with him. Daryl watched quietly, uncertain as to what the sheriff had in mind.

"You said your church is close to here?" He asked calmly.

"About thirty minutes away," the preacher replied. "By car, at least. But I know how to get there from here. It...it isn't much, but there's a town close by with a food bank. I'm not sure if it's been raided or not, but..." he paused. "I was too afraid to risk checking it myself."

"We'll send some people tomorrow morning," Rick said, looking to the others as he spoke. "It's been a long night. We should rest up for a day. How are we on rations, Tara?"

"Could use more," the woman replied with a shrug. "But we should have enough for now."

Rick nodded, exhaling through his mouth. Daryl eyed Beth quietly, noticing the exhaustion across her features. They hadn't really had time to catch up since escaping the hospital, and Milton's words about needing to talk to them still ran rampant in his mind. The corners of Beth's mouth twitched into a small frown as she noted the concern on her husband's features, fingers tightening around his hand.

"Don't give me that look," she muttered. "I'm fine."

"What look," he asked, trying to sound innocent. "I ain't done nothin'."

"Milton took good care of me at the hospital," she assured him. "You don't have anythin' to worry about. I'm just a little tired, but that's because your son won't stop squirmin' around in me."

His son. The words still sounded foreign to him as he began to walk, following the group as Gabriel and Rick led. He still would speak to Milton later about his statement in the car, something seeming off about Beth even if she claimed there wasn't. But she was strong. Had proved it many times. And if there was something wrong, she'd be the last person to whine about it.

"He needs a middle name," Beth said, breaking the silence about an hour into the walk. "Wyatt?"

"You can pick it," Daryl mumbled, not meeting her stare. "I ain't good with names."

"I chose Wyatt," she countered. "You're on your own for this one."

"He ain't even born yet," the archer replied quietly. "I ain't gotta choose somethin' right at this moment."

He hadn't meant to sound so harsh, but the stress of having Merle there was beginning to get to him. His brother sauntered behind the group, not seeming to want to speak to anyone-though Carol clearly seemed to be trying. Daryl adjusted his bow as it slid slightly off his shoulder, letting go of Beth's hand momentarily. The sun was high in the sky, the temperature slightly warmer than it had been previously.

"I...missed you," Beth murmured, catching him off guard again. "At the hospital? I...thought about you a lot."

"Yeah," Daryl agreed. "Me too." He paused, peering towards Beth out of the corner of his eye. "Listen," he mumbled. "I...I know I ain't the best with words, but ya mean...ya mean a lot to me. And I'm glad you're back. If I'd lost you..." he seemed to struggle with what to say next. "I'm glad that it didn't happen."

"No," Beth said softly. "You're better than you give yourself credit for."

Daryl's mouth twitched into a small smile as he met Beth's gaze, their hands meeting once more. As he gazed at her, he felt the urge to kiss her. Not once had they done it outside of their own privacy. Doing it mostly when it involved sex. But now, caught in the sentimental moment, he wanted nothing more than to be intimate with her in that instant. Her gaze never left his, their steps slowing as they moved closer.

"Get a room or somethin'," Merle's voice cut in from behind. "I ain't that desperate in need of porn."

Daryl rolled his eyes, leaning away from Beth as he shot his brother a look. It wasn't unlike Merle to ruin a moment, even if he hadn't really any in his previous times. Focusing once more on the road, the group continued to follow the dirt path, catching a road sign that was but a few yards away informing them of the approaching chapel. Maybe now they could really have some time to relax. But Daryl doubted fate could be so kind.

**Much longer chapter planned for either tomorrow or Monday. Probably a few thousand words. I want a lot to happen. Feedback is greatly loved and appreciated. I could use some proof that people are still interested after the messages I've got. Let me know your thoughts and what you'd like to see. Much love, until next time. -Jen**


	46. Chapter forty two

**Thank you all for your kind words. I seriously appreciate the support, especially with what I explained last chapter. A multitude of gratitude to Natercia, ledanna, Peeca151, booklover1989, blesdirishangel, GabbyAbby, Reignashii, sportschick44, cherrywineBA, rckyfrk, mhustler, jcolunga96, Nicolina88, ZombertHunter, heatherrk, gwenstacy, Twiheart0124, maryjanewatson, kevkye, An Amber Pen, malzateb, kristelalugo, Spoonlicker, Bluemom, Erika , sergensaf, ArtGirlie815, wickedclownsmile, georgiagal, DarylDixon'sLover, asseylum, ameswilf, Smidget, KTstoriesandstuff, Dixongurl , MamaDCB, Jackiemgomez, engineergirl86, Joise, angelicedg, and brady66 for your kind and very inspiring reviews! Now onward, my fellow readers, to the next chapter!**

Chapter forty two:

The church was further from society that Daryl Dixon had previously thought. Secluded by the forest, only a single dirt road led up to its weed infested parking lot, the pavement long since gone as stone and dust made up its layer. Beth leaned heavily against Daryl, mentioning on briefly that her ankles were slightly bothering her and the lack of water brought on a bout of dizziness that didn't seem particularly merciful. The archer couldn't help but notice how Milton's eyes seemed to follow them, his attention drawn solely on Beth despite the various conversations that had begun among several group members.

"I'm hungry," Penny complained, trudging along side her step mother. "We haven't eaten in hours."

"We'll make lunch once we're inside," Andrea promised, adjusting her hold on Thomas. "Aunt Amy says she saw a few cans of stew. That'll be a nice change."

"She isn't my aunt," the young girl replied coldly. "And I don't like stew."

Daryl realized that Penny had been through a lot considering her age. The loss of her mother. Her father. The whole damn apocalypse. But Andrea didn't deserve as much lip service as the child gave her. He decided against commenting on it, knowing that if his child experienced any sort of behavioral qualms, that no one better utter a word to him or Beth about it. He allowed his hand to rest against his bow, looking down at Beth as she exhaled softly.

"You don't look so good," he mumbled, concern flickering across his gaze.

"I just need some rest," she assured him. "I don't think the human body is made to do such exercise while pregnant. Though, I don't really think God put much thought into the human body survivin' the apocalypse neither."

"It ain't God, jailbait," Merle muttered, looking towards the church with a frown. "We done this to ourselves. Ain't no God or nothin'."

"I'd prefer to think there is," Father Gabriel input quietly. "I don't think many of us would still be here without his grace...I wouldn't."

Rick forced the double doors of the building open, allowing the group passage. The interior was dark, lit only by what little light managed to stream in through the windows. Daryl made his way to the front with Beth, choosing a pew to sit in as others began to gather around the front. Bottles of water were passed around, people taking a few precious sips before sharing with another. In time, someone would have to go out and gather more. But for now, rest seemed more appealing than a cool drink.

"Maggie, can you help me with the food?" Rosita asked, her children sitting off to the side with her husband. "It's gonna take more than one person to cook all of this."

"Got enough for all these people?" Joan inquired, an eyebrow raised as she looked to Rick. "Everyone gets a spoonful or something?"

"No one said you have to eat," the sheriff replied bluntly, watching as his young daughter toddled over to him with a small stone in her hand. "Isn't that right, Judy?"

Judith merely placed the rock in her father's open palm, giving him a serious expression before teetering off to locate another. Rick smiled softly, his fingers curling around the object. Judith hadn't been walking for particularly long, but since she had, the child had a lot of momentum. On a particularly slow day without many walkers in site, sometimes the father would even let her stroll along, hand in either his, Carl's, or Tyreese's.

"She's so cute," Beth murmured, watching as Judith tumbled onto her knees before bravely pulling herself up and continuing on. "One day Wyatt'll be at that stage. With how much he moves around, we're gonna have to keep a good eye on him. Make sure he doesn't run himself into any trouble." She touched her stomach fondly, her face briefly contorting into a look of discomfort before it faded away.

"What?" Daryl asked, catching the look. "What's wrong?"

"It's nothin'," Beth breathed, her words sounding slightly labored. "Just get a feelin' sometimes."

"I may have an explanation for that," came Milton's voice, Daryl stiffening at the unexpected interruption. "There's something I've been meaning to talk to you about, Beth."

"Spill it," Daryl said, his tone sounding cold. "And to the point is better than a fuckin' novel."

Milton seemed to flinch at Daryl's statement, but continued on nevertheless. "Back at the hospital, when you first came in Dr. Edwards and I ran some tests as per protocol. We came across some results that were rather troubling," he paused, unable to meet Daryl's stare. "We...I believe you have what is called preeclampsia, which is in lay man's terms, a serious ailment that affects the mother physically in the second and third trimester of her pregnancy. Potentially life threatening to both the mother and child if gone untreated." He hesitated, finally meeting their stares. "But the treatment is also dangerous for the child and mother in your case."

Daryl felt his heart sank, his stomach twisting with nausea at the man's words. Not Beth. Not after everything they had gone through. She was a survivor and now he had the audacity to say she was, in fact, dying?! Maybe not those exact terms, but it seemed serious enough. Daryl felt Beth's hand rest on his own, her demeanor seemingly calm despite the news that had just been delivered.

"So there isn't much we can do," Beth said gently.

"I'm sorry," Milton replied, his tone genuinely apologetic. "But there isn't much I can sugarcoat. I'll do what I can for you. But we have no choice but to take this day by day. If your son was delivered now, he would not survive. And the delivery process could also be terminal for you as well."

"No," Daryl said sharply. "You ain't just gonna leave it at that."

"Daryl," Beth said, but the archer shrugged away from her touch.

"Don't Daryl me," he hissed, standing up despite the many eyes that now landed on him. "You can't just expect me to sit back and let things happen."

Without another word, he began to storm towards the front doors. He needed to breathe, to regain whatever control he had of himself left. The sound of Beth's footsteps following him met his ears, the man choosing to ignore his wife as he exited the building. The air was beginning to cool even more, goosebumps breaking the skin of the archer as he kicked away at a loose brick that was near his path.

"Daryl, stop," Beth insisted.

"Don't tell me what to do," he growled, rounding about to face her. "What are you? My chaperon?"

"I'm your wife," she said, standing her ground as she met his gaze. "And I'm allowed to be worried about you."

He snorted, shaking his head as he wiped underneath his nose. "Don't even matter now. Hurndon's gone. Marriage is null and void."

"You don't mean that," Beth said quietly, arms folding over her chest. "Paper doesn't define what we are-"

"And what is that exactly?" Daryl replied, taking a step closer to her. "What the fuck are we, Beth?"

"I'm not dead yet, Daryl," she answered, her voice raising. "You can quit pushin' me away and actin' like I am!"

Rage and sorrow intertwined as one in the archer's chest as his fists clenched at his side. He was scared, perhaps even terrified. But he sure as hell wasn't about to admit that to the one person who actually meant something more to him than everything itself. Daryl swallowed hard, nostril's flared as he gazed at Beth speechlessly. He couldn't lose her. Not after everything they'd been through.

"I'm gonna make it, you'll see," Beth stated. "I'm a survivor."

"That what people always say," he muttered, voice breaking. "And then that's when life bites them in the ass." Emotion began to swell over him like an unbound current. It embarrassed him to say the least that such happened in front of his wife, but he was beyond the point of caring now. "I already lost you once," he said, inhaling sharply. "I ain't gonna let that happen again."

He didn't move as he felt Beth's arms constrict around him, holding him tight as his head hung low. For the first time in years, he cried. Not full out sobbing, but his vision did grow cloudy. For several minutes they stood there, Daryl in his wife's embrace as the chilling wind blew. No one dared to bother them, and for that, Daryl was thankful. After all, this moment would probably be one of few they'd have alone together. Even if it wasn't in the happiest of times.

**Okay, I realize this is short, but I update at least once a day, maybe twice when I can, so I think short chapters are okay in this case. But I'll do my best to make them longer. They'll be much longer when something exciting happens. Which will be soon enough because I think it's time we narrowed down the characters a bit. Next chapter will have some bethyl fluff. Two hints: peppermints and maybe some baby clothes. It's about time Daryl does some shopping for his lady. Anyway, feedback is greatly loved and appreciated! Please let me know your thoughts! Every review seriously helps motivate me to update. Until probably tomorrow, my dear readers! -Jen**


	47. Chapter forty three

**As usual, a wave of thanks to rckyfrk, malzateb, Bluemom, StephMcG, Joise, Tania Ibarbia, lulu52, Katarzyna88gb, Ela1980, blesdirishangel, MamaDCB, Twiheart0124, Reignashii, asseylum, maryjanewatson, kevkye, kristelalugo, DarylDixon'sLover, heatherrk, KTstoriesandstuff, DixonShipster, Dixongurl, ArtGirlie815, Natercia, mhustler, hmatlock, fseventh, An Amber Pen, Anara, and engineergirl86 for your outstanding messages for last chapter! Now how about a little fluff to make up for all the drama, hm?**

Chapter forty three:

"Peppermints."

That was the first word Beth had said to Daryl when they awoke that morning. She peered up at him, her head resting on his chest as the others in the group had only just begun to stir. He eyed his wife curiously, noting the playful smile that was present on her lips as she watched him. Peppermints. Out of everything she could have possibly asked for, that was the one item she desired most.

"Peppermints," he repeated, hesitation evident in his tone. "You sure you ain't want nothin' else?"

As had been decided last night, he along with Rick, Glenn, and Michonne would be journeying to the town closest to the church. As Father Gabriel had claimed, there was a food bank there. Perhaps, if they were lucky, they might come across some leftover cans or preserves scavengers had left behind. And when Daryl had inquired from Beth what she would like if he were lucky enough to locate it, candy was the first answer to slip from her lips.

"I've been cravin' them like nobody's business," she said somewhat sheepishly. "And I don't think they get all old and moldy like everythin' else. A few would be wonderful, but if you happen to come across a bag…"

"Peppermints," Daryl said in response. "Got it."

He couldn't help but stiffen slightly as Beth pressed a kiss to his cheek. He was still not use to any displays of affection besides the occasional embrace and hand holding. He was glad however, that Beth seemed to be feeling much better that morning. Her face not as round as it had been, the swelling in her ankles not as severe. Today would be one of the few good days if Daryl had anything to do with it.

"And maybe, if you could find a little somethin' for Wyatt, that wouldn't hurt either," Beth input, her eyes flickering down to the swell of her abdomen. "We really should be a little more proactive when it comes to gettin' stuff for him. He won't be long before he comes around. Few more months at most."

"I'll see what I can do," Daryl promised, not much caring to think exactly when his son would arrive. Milton's words still loomed in his mind from the previous day, concerns for Beth rising every passing moment. "But don't go gettin' your hopes up too high."

The sound of shuffling feet caught both Daryl's and Beth's attention, their eyes flickering across the room to see Rick standing from his previously reclined position. Carl and Judith still remained fast asleep near his side, as were most of the children currently. The sheriff's gaze landed on Daryl, his mouth curving into a thin, tired smile.

"Best get started while we still got daylight," Rick said, Daryl nodding in response. "Father Gabriel said it ain't but a few miles down the road, but there's no tellin' what we may encounter."

"Nothin' we can't fend off," Daryl muttered, sitting up slightly as Beth followed suit. "You ready?"

"Glenn and Michonne are already outside from their watch shift," Rick nodded. "I think our operation is a go."

The day was much colder than the last as Daryl and the other three adults made their way from the church. Though he didn't look back, he knew Beth was watching him from one of the windows as they went. He'd promised her that he'd be cautious, as recklessness was somewhat in his nature when he wasn't thinking straight. Crossbow on his back, he followed Rick down the road, ignoring the frigid temperatures as they made their way into what was now a ghost town.

A few walkers caught notice of the group as they journeyed down the forgotten street, Michonne quickly ending their existence as they approached the various abandoned shops that laden the small village. Rick withdrew his weapon, eyes fixed forward and towards an unmarked building Father Gabriel had claimed was the food bank. He turned to the others, looking from Michonne to Glenn and finally to Daryl.

"Michonne," Rick addressed. "Go with Daryl and check out the grocery store. Glenn, you can come with me to the other building. Make scoutin' easier on all of us."

"Sounds like a plan," Glenn nodded. "Meet back here in twenty minutes?"

"As close to it as we can keep track of," Daryl muttered, unsure how any of them would know when the time past. "Ready?"

The set of double doors had been shattered into small, pointy shards of glass as Daryl and Michonne slipped inside. Daryl posed his bow, taking out a walker that had drawn a little too close for comfort. It was eerie, the empty aisle ways that were laden with broken jars of jellies and sauces, shopping carts left unattended and overturned in the rush to escape the outbreak. Daryl motioned for Michonne to follow him as they moved quietly, grabbing what few cans still sat on the crooked shelves.

"You wanna take one side and I'll get the other?" the archer suggested. "Cover more ground that way?"

"Sounds good to me," the woman answered. "Holler if something happens."

Daryl nodded, turning to head in the opposite direction they came. He moved silently, crossbow ready to fire as he turned down one of the aisle ways. Green, blotched loaves of what once must've been bread lined the shelves as he went. Continuing on, he went down another pathway, stopping momentarily as he took notice of the small boxes and bags of old, stale candy that lay in piles towards the ground. Stooping down, he began to examine them, most seemingly to have been ruined by the various rodents that had taken shelter in the building.

"Damn peppermints," Daryl muttered, tossing aside bags of candy in search of the flavor his wife had requested.

Finally, pushed underneath the shelf with a layer of dust coating its plastic wrapping, Daryl found what he assumed was a discarded, single bag of the hard little candies. He huffed in triumph as he shoved them underneath his arm, standing as he began to head down another aisle. This one, like the last few, offering very little besides the occasional can of vegetables or tuna fish.

As Daryl moved back towards the entrance, planning on waiting for Michonne, a display off to the side caught his attention. Under a thick layer of dust, the glass mostly shattered, stood a small display showing various pieces of jewelry. None sparkled like they once did when lights shown upon them, but rather stood out amongst the wreckage as forgotten pieces of luxury. Compelled, Daryl moved closer, his eyes scanning the various pieces until his gaze landed on a particular one. A diamond ring. At least, it looked to be a diamond. For all he knew, it was a fake, but the piece was still nice nevertheless.

A round, small diamond sat nestled in between a band of what looked like silver. There wasn't much detail other than that, just a simple diamond ring. And yet, it still held an elegance that even Daryl Dixon could appreciate. His mind went to Beth, to their marriage. She never had a proper wedding. No dress. No bride's maids. Hell, she didn't even have a cake. But now, maybe she could at least have a ring. Even if it wasn't as extravagant as what most women imagined.

Inhaling, Daryl removed the small item from its holder, slipping carefully into his pocket. As he turned, he began to walk back in the direction he came. He threw his crossbow over his shoulder, opening his mouth to call out for Michonne when something grabbed the back of his vest. Daryl whipped around, coming face to face with a walker, its rotted teeth just inches from his face as it snarled hungrily. And for the first time since the outbreak, Daryl Dixon found himself in true, immediate danger.

**A picture of the wedding ring can be found on my tumblr for those who are curious. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, despite it's length. I may post another tonight (and definitely will if this story hits 1900 reviews). Again, sorry for such short posts. I just started a new semester at my college so I'm beginning to become busy once more. But that sure as heck doesn't mean I won't still try to update every day. Feedback is greatly loved and appreciated. Let me know your thoughts. Also which characters you'd like to see more of! Thanks so much folks! Until later tonight! -Jen**


	48. Chapter forty four

**I'm writing on literally no sleep so I apologize if this chapter is slightly off from my usual style of writing. But the college semester just started and I have a four hour period in between my french and literature class, so I'm going to use that time to write. A mountain of thanks to** **rckyfrk, Spoonlicker, maryjanewatson, Winged Pages, KelseyNicole08, FluffyTwinkies, gwenstacy, An Amber Pen, Smidget, peteythepirate, Twiheart0124 , malzateb, mhustle, Tania Ibarbia, Joise, kristelalugo, sportschick44, heatherrk, lulu52, KTstoriesandstuff, Natercia, angelicedg, engineergirl86, Mione788, beba20000, ArtGirlie815, Ela1980, Katarzyna88gb, brady66, Bluemom, MaidenAlice, kevkye, sillymommy2010, Dixongurl,****and ****DarylDixon'sLove**** for your lovely feedback messages! Now for the next chapter!**

Chapter forty four:

Daryl's elbow smashed against the creature's chest, the sound of its withered bones cracking met his ears like loud static. Unrelenting, the walker lunged for him again, the archer was knocked to the floor as he struggled against the snapping teeth and fingers that reached hungrily for bare skin. He wasn't going to die. Not like this. Not because he let his damn guard down for a second and was ambushed by a fucking walker. With a grunt, the man shoved the creature back, its body slamming against the wall as Daryl scurried back to his feet.

"No good sonsofbitches," Daryl hissed, digging his heel into the once human's skull. "Tore my goddamn vest."

He shook his foot, droplets of dark liquid falling from his shoe as Michonne appeared in the entrance of an aisle way. She eyed the corpse quietly, her gaze flickering from the body to Daryl. She didn't say anything in reply, merely offered the man a small, relieved smirk before holding out a plastic bag full of something towards him. The archer took it, his stare briefly meeting the woman's as he opened the object to reveal the contents inside. Clothes. Infant attire to be exact. A few outfits, slightly marred with wrinkles and dust, lay folded within. And to accompany them, what appeared to be a blanket and a torn pack of diapers.

"It isn't much," Michonne admitted, her eyes following Daryl as he lifted the various articles up. "But that goes for a lot of things nowadays."

"No," Daryl shook his head, gingerly placing one of the outfits back. "No, it ain't just nothin'. It's somethin'," he exhaled, fingers tightening around the worn handles. "Thanks."

He was grateful for Michonne's thoughtfulness when it came to the baby. After all, he'd nearly forgotten about his promise to Beth to locate some needed infant supplies. Bag in hand, he slipped the peppermints inside, slightly feeling his pocket for the ring as he and the woman exited the shop. Rick and Glenn greeted them upon their exit, their own totes seemingly weighed down by a few more cans than Daryl had found.

"Any luck?" Glenn asked, eyeing Daryl's bag curiously.

"Much as we're gonna get," shrugged the archer. "How was the food bank?"

"Floor's partly collapsed," the sheriff replied, glancing over his shoulder towards the building. "Walkers in the basement, but we found some stuff."

Daryl nodded, uncertain as to what to say next. Silently, they began to make their way back to the church. The supplies were few, but would maybe last them a couple of days or a week at most. With how large their group kept growing, rations were limited even more frequently than before. The archer inhaled through his nose, feeling the ring through his pants pocket. Hopefully Beth wouldn't find the sentimental gesture amusing. He, after all, was not made to be a romantic.

"Welcome back," Abraham greeted from his guard position on the porch. "Beginnin' to think somethin' happened to you."

"Ain't nobody can get me 'cept me," Daryl muttered, slipping past the soldier and into the house of worship.

Immediately, his eyes searched the room, finally focusing on Beth. She sat in a nearby chair, her attention drawn to Judith and Thomas as they played their unspoken child games. When she caught sight of him, her mouth curved into a smile. With slight difficulty, she pushed herself up into a standing position, still remaining by the toddlers' sides as he approached her.

"You're back," she exclaimed, pulling him into a hug. "I was startin' to miss you."

"Brought your things," he stated, pushing the bag into her hands.

Daryl watched as Beth began to go through the bag, the smile on her lips widening at the sight of the peppermints. He merely nodded his head, watching as she withdrew the candies to look at the few little outfits that Michonne had found. Even in such a dark time, she seemed to find joy in the smallest of things. Something Daryl wish he could understand and experience too.

"These are great," she grinned, holding up one of the outfits. "Yellow's one of my favorite colors."

"Michonne picked it out," he answered. "I ain't that good with stuff like this." He paused, tongue darting from his mouth to moisten his dry lips. "I um, got ya somethin' else too." He could feel her eyes on him as he hesitantly withdrew the ring from his pocket. "It ain't that glamorous or nothin', and Christ even knows if it'll fit, but-"

"Oh, Daryl," she whispered, emotion slipping into her words. "It's beautiful."

With her hand extended, Daryl gingerly slid the object onto her finger. It fit somewhat well, the band a little tighter where the girl's fingers had become slightly swollen, but it would work for now. Beth looked up to her husband, inhaling deeply as she took both of his hands into her own. Daryl felt a little embarrassed that it happened in front of everyone, but knowing that he had made his wife happy was far more important than his dignity.

"I love you," she murmured, eyes fixed on his own. "And Wyatt does too."

The words twisted inside of Daryl's mind, his own tongue struggling to create such a sentence. Instead, he nodded, glancing down towards the bag a Judith toddled over to investigate his findings. He smiled slightly at the toddler, the girl returning the gesture as she held her arms up towards him. He paused, looking to Beth who shook her head in approval. With ease and caution, he gently lifted the child from the floor, holding Judith for the first time since he'd met her several months back.

"Hey, kid," he mumbled, leaning back slightly as her hands ran across his cheeks. "You doin' okay?"

She gurgled in response, nose crinkling up slightly as she wrapped her arms around his neck. He held her close as she squirmed, babbling incoherently as she gazed around intently from her new position. Daryl held her tight, somewhat afraid that he'd accidentally drop her. Beth on the other hand continued to look on, a look of pure giddiness crossing her features by his simple gesture.

"She likes you," Beth chuckled. "She doesn't let just anyone pick her up."

"Must be somethin' she wants from me then," Daryl replied, gently setting her back on the floor when she took notice of her father. "Don't see another reason."

Beth was about to contradict his statement when Andrea's voice broke through the various conversations of the group. Her tone was desperate, shrill as she moved quickly down the various pews. Beth and Daryl watched her curiously, their eyes flickering to one another as the woman slowed her pace. It was then that Daryl noticed something that he hadn't before. Something that made his blood turn cold and the hairs on the back of his neck stand at attention.

Penny was missing.

**I'm sorry for the length, I'm so tired haha. I may post more tonight, depending on how much homework I finish. But as usual, there will be an update tomorrow. Feedback is greatly loved and appreciated! I love you all for how close this story is to 2,000 reviews! Again, when it hits that number, I'll do something special as well as post a super long chapter. Let me know your thoughts! Thinking about having another love scene soon. Think it's time? Until either tonight or tomorrow, folks! -Jen**


	49. Chapter forty five

**So this will probably be the longest story I've ever written. How long will it be exactly? I don't know, but I hope people enjoy lengthy fics. As usual, a volcanic eruption of thanks to stacycoonan, angelicedg, heatherrk, DixonShipster, Smidget, mhustler, Joise, Sophia, beba20000, MrsRoseReedus, kristelalugo, Anara , Ela1980, Tania Ibarbia, asseylum, rckyfrk, Lulu Martin, kevkye, malzateb, MamaDCB, Twiheart0124, Dixongurl , Katarzyna88gb, brady66, An Amber Pen, gwenstacy, guest, maryjanewatson, engineergirl86, jcolunga96, Reignashii, StephMcG, and DarylDixon'sLover for your wonderful feedback messages! Now for the next chapter!**

Chapter forty five:

For the first time that day, Daryl Dixon took notice that the young, dark haired girl was no where to be seen. Not that Penny Blake usually made herself known, tending to stay off to the side, preferring to sulk in the corners or saunter behind the group, but clearly now she was absent completely. Andrea looked around distraught, desperation evident in her gaze as she moved around the church, calling out the girl's name as others began to do the same. Yet, despite the efforts, Daryl could already begin to tell that Penny was far from ear shot at this point.

"When did you last see her," Rick inquired, looking to the woman as Andrea pinched the brim of her nose.

"I don't…I don't know," she mumbled, shaking her head in disbelief. "Tommy's been ill today. His stomach's been bothering him so all of my attention's been focused on him. Penny usually does so well at watching herself. When lunchtime came around, I just thought she…" her voice trailed off. "I never considered she'd run off. Not like this."

Daryl looked to Beth, eyes meeting the worried gaze in his wife's expression as the sheriff nodded thoughtfully in response to Andrea's statement. They had only just gotten back from their run, the archer wanting nothing more than to spend some well earned time with his spouse as Rick called for the attention of the group. All turned to face the leader, some-like Merle-less willing as the former officer began to speak to the able bodies in the open room.

"We'll go out in groups," Rick spoke aloud, nodding to Andrea. "Cover as much ground as we can. Maybe about a two mile radius or so around the church. Penny couldn't of gotten that far. Not at her age." He paused, eyes flickering over to Hershel. "Couple of us can stay here, wait and see if she comes back. Maybe we'll get lucky in that sense. Ain't no tellin' at this point."

"Damn kid's lucky if she ain't gone an' got herself bit by a rotter," Merle scoffed. "Got fuckin' brains the size of peas."

"Shut up, Merle," Daryl hissed. "Ain't nobody asked you."

The smile faded from the eldest Dixon brother's face as he watched his brother silently. Daryl glared back, ready to retaliate if the chance called for it when he felt Beth's touch. Her fingers were warm on the inner part of his wrist, the pressure slight against the thrum of his pulse. His stance relaxed, shoulders slacking as he gazed towards his spouse. She offered him a small smile, though the concern for Penny was clearly evident in her gaze. Even more so that she was unable to journey along to help. Milton would surely advise against it and Beth was intelligent enough not to try to argue it at this point. Not when someone else's life was on the line.

"Promise me," she said quietly. "That you'll be safe."

"I ain't gonna do nothin' stupid," he muttered.

"Daryl," she warned.

"I promise," he mumbled, ignoring Merle's snide remark as he did. "You ain't got to worry about me."

"I'm your wife," she remarked. "It's my job."

The archer hesitated for a moment and then, slowly, leaned forward and pressed a chaste kiss to the corner of Beth's mouth. It had been awhile since they had kissed, even longer since he had been the one lead it. When he pulled away, the faded pink blush on Beth's cheeks was just visible enough against the sunlight to catch his eye before Rick whistled for all outgoing members to gather at the front door. Daryl squeezed Beth's hand one last time, his fingers lingering on hers for a moment before he dropped them entirely.

"I'll be fine," he promised. "You jus' worry bout yourself."

She merely nodded, exhaling softly as she forced a thin smile onto her mouth. "Find her, Daryl," she replied. "Bring her back safe."

His eyes caught the glint of the wedding band on her ring finger, a token of their marriage that he had only just begun to process. He nodded, taking a step back as he shifted his bow from his shoulder. Most of the crowd had fallen back to Rick's side, a few choosing to stay behind to watch the children. Taking one last glance at Beth, Daryl went to join the others, finding himself placed into a group with Abraham and Joan as they set off into the woods heading west.

"How none of us didn't notice a fucking ten year old practically waltzing out of the church in mid day," the woman commented, trudging along side the two men. "Seems like it would be something obvious, but clearly not."

"It don't matter now," Abraham muttered, his gun positioned in his hand as he moved. "Just gotta find her and bring her back safe. Christ knows how long she's been gone." He looked to Daryl, eyes studying the archer curiously. "You're awfully silent. Somethin' on your mind?"

"No," Daryl muttered, not too keen on having a conversation with either of the two parties. "Jus' feel like been quiet s'all."

"Missing your woman?" Joan questioned, snorting softly as she peered over towards Daryl. "You two don't really seem like the type of couple I'd expect, but I'm not one to judge," she waved her hands. "Beth struck me as a curious sort of gal when we met. I'll give her that much."

Daryl ignored Joan's statement, grateful that Abraham chose not to comment as they continued along their makeshift path, calling out for Penny every few moments. The wind was beginning to pick up the further they went, casting leaves and branches over their heads. The archer kept low, avoiding the falling debris as he kept his eyes peeled for the young girl. The sooner they found her, the sooner he could return to Beth. He was owed some time with his wife, whether anyone was willing to give it to him or not.

"This is why you keep a damn eye on your kids," the soldier grumbled, adjusting his weapon in hand. "Rosita and I would never let any of our girls outta our sight for too long."

"Thanks for the parenting advise, Red," the woman replied. "I'll make sure to keep that in mind when I pop out a couple dozen rugrats."

If anything good were to come out of this experience, Daryl had to give Abraham credit for not losing his head over Joan and her snide remarks. The soldier merely frowned at the woman, keeping his distance as they moved along. The land grew stepper as they began to climb a hill, Abraham calling out for Penny as they paused momentarily to listen for a response. As expected, there was none. Not that Daryl even thought the girl would do so if she had, in fact, tried to run away.

"Maybe the others found her," Abraham muttered, grazing towards the top of the slope. "Or she was smart enough to turn back."

"Perhaps," Joan commented. "You suggesting we turn back?"

"It ain't a bad idea or nothin'..." the man mumbled, itching the side of his face. "Just to check..."

Daryl knew well enough that both Abraham and Joan were just assuming the best case scenario at this point. With how the world was, such was never usually the case. His mind traveled to Beth, to the thoughts of their unborn son. If it had been Wyatt who was missing, he'd sure as hell wouldn't dare let anyone give up until the boy was found. Exhaling through his nose, he looked towards the top of the hill. A few miles more. He could do that.

"You both go on back," he mumbled. "I'm gonna keep lookin'."

"Beth's going to worry," Joan answered after a moment's pause. "You sure you don't want to come back with us? Just to check and-"

"No," Daryl interrupted. "If she's still out there, I'm gonna find her."

Joan and Abraham exchanged looks but finally relented. The soldier moved past Daryl, clamping a hand on the archer's shoulder as he went. Daryl watched as they walked down the slope together. The sight of his two companions growing further in his line of vision until they completely disappeared. He exhaled, cracking his knuckles before adjusting his bow. He was going to find Penny, even if it took hours.

Dead leaves crumbled underneath the man's shoes as Daryl moved up the hill, taking a breather once he reached the top. The trees had become more sparsely populated, breaking slightly to reveal the glow of a grey sky that loomed above. In the distance, Daryl could make out a field. The colors of grass golden and brown from age and cold. For a moment, he decided to take a seat, letting his bow rest against the forest floor as he gazed out over the forest.

It was quite peaceful once one forgot about the dangers that lurked behind every corner. He began to lose himself in his thoughts. Time slipping through his fingers as he looked forward tiredly. He was so caught up in his train of mindless thought, that he didn't even notice the sound of footsteps behind him, nor the hand reaching out to touch his shoulder.

"Daryl?"

The archer whipped around, his hand reaching to grasp his hunting knife as he came face to face with Beth. She gazed at him in bewilderment, a hand resting on the swell of her stomach as she took a step back in defense. Daryl's stiff position relaxed once he took notice of who it was, concern and relief crossing his features simultaneously as he let his hand fall back to his side.

"Jesus fucking Christ, woman," he hissed. "I coulda killed you! What the hell are you doin' out here anyway?!"

"I came to find you," Beth replied, her tone slightly defensive. "You've been gone for hours. I was growin' worried. I thought maybe somethin' had happened to you."

"And you thought it'd be a good idea to get yourself into the same trouble if it had?" Daryl growled, more angry at the fact that she had snuck up on him than anything else. "You shoulda sent someone else."

"Clearly," she answered, her tone somewhat cold. "I'm glad to see you're alright."

Daryl climbed back to his feet, towering over his wife. Beth stood her ground, her arms folded over her chest. Sometimes he could be an asshole, but mostly it came with good reason-or he was particularly drunk. As he opened his mouth to say something, he saw a look in Beth's eyes that caused his lips to immediately close. Fear and anguish had suddenly crossed her features, her gaze seemingly staring past him and towards the scene below them.

"Beth?"

She merely pointed to spot down the hill a ways. Daryl turned, looking in the direction she was signaling. There, in what appeared to be a ditch, tangled in rusted barbed wire, was a small figure. It moved slowly, growling against its restraints. Hair matted with blood and skin torn, the archer could still make out the walker's features. His stomach dropped as the glazed over eyes met his, her teeth barred as she attempted to lung for him despite being trapped amidst the fencing.

Penny.

**So yes, Penny is dead. It was about time someone died to be honest. Feedback is greatly loved and appreciated! Um...if this story gets up to 1988 reviews today (so 40 reviews for this chapter), I'll post another chapter tonight. Otherwise keep an eye out for either tomorrow or Saturday! Also I'll do a love scene next chapter maybe. It just didn't fit in this chapter. Anyway, hope you enjoyed! Until tonight or tomorrow! -Jen **


	50. Chapter forty six

**Short chapter, more like a scene setter that'll lead into some big bethyl moments next chapter! You guys are absolutely amazing, you know that?! Anyway, a ginormous wave of thanks to ****mhustler, kristelalugo, sportschick44, Reignashii, Zzah, Crystal, missy7293, Ela1980, heatherrk, SpicyPepper-SweetSugar, Bluemom, ameswilf, malzateb, krysx3, kevkye, iwona-czapaj , Tania Ibarbia, zombiegirl56, beba20000, Nurse jean, brady66, Katarzyna88gb, allegra, asseylum, TWDFan05, Anara, Dixongurl, LegoMama0614, StephMcG, Spoonlicker, DarylDixon'sLover, MamaDCB, Katarzyna88gb, MistyForestQueen,** **engineergirl86, Guest, An Amber Pen, b**l**esdirishangel, Guest, ArtGirlie815, and Joise for your lovely, always inspiring reviews! Now for the promised chapters!**

Chapter forty six:

Numbness. Disbelief. Those are the first emotions to find someone in a moment of tragedy. Daryl took a few steps closer to Penny, the once young girl lunging towards him against the binds of her barbed wire. Her teeth snapped together, saliva glistening on her bruised lips as her eyes gazed unfocused at the archer. When Beth moved forward, Daryl held his hand up, holding his wife back as he looked on at the walker. Penny. Only hours ago she had been alive. His stomach twisted, nausea rising up in the back of his throat as he reached for his knife.

"Look away, Beth," he muttered, holding his weapon towards the girl's skull.

But she didn't move, her eyes remaining fixed on what once was Penny. Daryl swallowed hard, adverting his gaze from his wife as his attention turned to remain on Penny. Her voice replayed in his mind, images of her former human self matching the sounds as he raised the blade. With a thud, he brought it down through her skull. The young girl's body gave a single quiver before it finally crumpled to the ground, lying broken and tangled amidst the many wires. Just like that, she was gone.

Daryl tried to avoid peering down at his trembling fingers as he worked away at the fencing that bound the girl in place. He could feel Beth standing over him, grateful that she hadn't offered to help at this point. Penny looked so peaceful, almost normal despite the discoloration in her features. Gingerly, he pulled her body from his prison, lifting it from the forest floor as he held her close to his chest. He had never been particularly close to the child, but she was still that. A kid. Andrea's at that.

"Oh, Penny," Beth murmured, her voice sounding weak.

"Don't get near us," Daryl muttered, somewhat worried that somehow she'd magically reanimate and attack Beth in the process. "I ain't want ya to-"

"She's gone, Daryl," she answered quietly. "Penny isn't comin' back."

The words stung worse than they probably should have. He stiffen slightly, Penny's body seeming heavier in his arms as his pace slowed. Gone. It was a similar feeling to when his mother had died. Not that they had ever been close, but when he and Merle had been asked to identify the body, the same sensation had come over him. Gone forever. It was weird to think that a person you'd seen for a greater portion of your life would just never been there now. As suddenly as they were there, such was no longer the case. He hated goodbyes.

"We'll bury her right and proper," Beth murmured as they continued on, Daryl unable to bring his gaze to meet hers. "Give her the funeral she deserves."

"Not that it matters," he replied quietly, his tone sounding hoarse as he shifted Penny in his arms. "Not like she's gonna care."

"But we care," his wife answered. "And Penny's gonna know that."

Daryl wasn't a religious man, never had been despite his father's Jesus Christ drunken bouts that came with one too many bottles of liquor. That didn't mean he didn't believe there was something out there, he was sort of afraid not to. But he wasn't as faithful as Beth. Hadn't ever had a reason to. And yet, his spouse's belief that good would come from such a spiritual event as a funeral for the young girl brought him the slightest amount of unsaid relief.

"This isn't your fault, Daryl," Beth said quietly as they approached the church. "I want you to know that."

Already people had begun to file from the building, looks of horror spreading across faces at the sight of the child lying lifeless in Daryl's arms. Andrea stumbled towards him, her mouth open as wordless sobs slipped from her tongue. He stood there, absolutely still. Unable to do anything as the crowd began to gather around him, their eyes fixed on Penny as murmurs of questions and soft gasps began to escape from lips.

"Penny," Andrea moaned, reaching for her daughter. "Give her to me! She's mine!"

Daryl didn't react when the child was torn from his arms. He merely stood there, watching as the stepmother sunk to the ground, holding her lifeless daughter close. The archer could feel his wife at his side, her hands slipping around his wrist as she held herself close to him. He swallowed, the taste in his mouth bitter as he looked on, ignoring the stare from his brother as he pushed past the other people, moving towards the inner part of the church with Beth at his heels.

Without a word, he pushed the janitorial closet open and slid inside, the door staying open just long enough for Beth to enter before it finally closed. He said nothing as he sat down on the floor, his head resting in his hands as he stared aimlessly at the ground. It wasn't his fault. He had tried to save her. Jenny. Eugene. Duane. They had lost so many people. So many good people and he was so damn tired of it.

"Daryl?" Beth inquired, worry lacing her tone.

"Jus' tired of losin' people," he mumbled, lifting his hand to rest on hers. "Don't worry bout me."

"Me too," she replied, her fingers lightly squeezing his. "I don't like goodbyes."

They didn't leave the safety that was the small room, something about the sanctuary it offered from the sorrow on the outside comforting. Instead they remained in each other's company, silence falling between them so that the only sound that met one another's ears were the faint breaths that escaped past their lips. After everything that had happened today, Daryl was glad he had someone to turn to. Even in the darkest of times, Beth was that little light at the end of his tunnel. Something he refused to ever let go out.

**I know this is short, but I'm super tired and need to get some shut eye, but no worries, long chapter planned for tomorrow. Some Bethyl fluff, maybe some sex (still debating about that scene, what with Beth's condition), and then for some excitement! Feedback is greatly loved and appreciated! Let me know your thoughts! Also for those Merle lovers, be prepared because he has a big ole role coming up! But that's all I'll say for now! Until tomorrow, guys! -Jen**


	51. Chapter forty seven

**First off, over two thousand reviews! You guys are incredible! Thank you a million times over! Secondly, I really appreciate the support. It's been a tough week for me and knowing I can turn to writing is very nice. Now, as usual, much thanks to Twiheart0124, heatherrk, KTstoriesandstuff, rckyfrk, Joise, Katarzyna88gb, sportschick44, iwona-czapaj, PolkaDotSocks93, Ela1980, sammxhill, DarylDixon'sLove, bluebook1496, blesdirishangel, Reignashii, kevkye, malzateb, Bluemom, kristelalugo, Dixongurl, jeanf, mhustler, and MamaDCB for your incredible reviews! Now as promised, here is a new chapter!**

Chapter forty seven:

All had gathered outside of the church and into the little courtyard overgrown with ivy and various weeds. Only minutes before had Tyreese and Abraham finished digging what would become Penny's shallow grave. Wrapped in a worn blanket, Daryl watched as Rick helped Andrea gingerly lower the body into dark hole. The woman's face was still flushed, eyes red from tears that had previously been shed. Thankfully Thomas was still young enough not to know what was going on. He watched contently from Amy's arms, gurgling pleasantly as his mother sorrowfully buried his sister.

"She's in a better place now," Hershel assured the mother, placing his hand on Andrea's shoulder. "God takes care of those old and young."

"Don't know what God you're talkin' bout," Merle scoffed. "See where the hell we are now, old man?"

"Sometimes we are given trials in life," Father Gabriel interrupted. "To test our true faith. That's what this is."

"That's pretty fucked up then," the eldest Dixon muttered. "If you think about it, so is the whole damn idea of religion."

"This is a funeral," the preacher responded calmly. "I think it would be in everyone's best interest if we didn't get into that debate now."

Daryl, who had remained silent for entirety of the argument, gazed at his wife out of the corner of his eye. She stood at his side, her arms folded over her chest as her eyes watched the sight before them. Rick had taken a shovel and began to scoop the dirt over the girl's body. Andrea remained near the edge, her head tilted downward as if she would, at any given moment, jump in and lift Penny back up. Nobody had asked him about where he found Penny or the events that led up to her death. Perhaps it was that no one truly wanted to know. And who could blame them? If he could, Daryl would gratefully forget in an instant.

"It's gettin' cold," the archer mumbled, eyes finally meeting Beth's. "We should go back inside the church."

Beth, giving the burial sight one last glance over, nodded her head. Together, they departed from the spot, leaving Andrea and the others in their wake. With candles as their only source of light, they made their way down the main aisle. Daryl felt Beth reach for his hand, her fingers tightening around his own. They didn't speak as they approached the open closet, taking refuge inside as it seemed to be the only spot either of them could be alone.

"What are you thinkin' about?" Beth asked gently, watching as Daryl unlatched himself from her touch and moved to sit down. "You've been awfully quiet."

"It's nothin'," he mumbled. "Jus' tired."

"You're lyin'," she answered, folding her arms over her chest. "I've known you long enough to tell, Daryl Dixon."

"I don't gotta tell you everythin'," responded the archer, sounding somewhat defensive. "Marriage don't work like that."

He stiffened as Beth's hand rested on his shoulder. Part of him wanted nothing more than to be alone right now, but the greater side of him couldn't leave Beth. Her thumb lightly stroked his shoulder blade as he stare aimlessly at the wall. Penny was dead. A child was gone. That in itself was a big blow to the group. Maybe if he'd gotten there faster. Maybe if he hadn't just sat on that hill thinking. Maybe, just maybe she could've been saved.

"Daryl."

He ignored her at first, attention still fixed on the opposite wall.

"Daryl, look at me."

Finally, he allowed his gaze to meet Beth's. She was staring at him, face void of any emotion. Slowly, she leaned forward, pressing her mouth against his. Her lips were soft, supple as they moved, arms winding around his neck. He pressed his nose into her cheek, exhaling as he held her close. It felt so good. After everything that had happened today, it felt so good just to hold her. The woodsy smell she carried, the warmth that her skin held. Everything about her was bliss.

He hadn't even noticed that she had begun to slip from her garments until she pulled away slightly. Daryl froze, looking on as Beth cast her shirt aside, exposing her pale skin, swollen breasts and the swell of her belly. He felt the familiar tightness in his pants as his body betrayed him, feeling the blood flush his cheeks as he gazed upon her clothes-less form.

"I..." he was at a loss for words. "Are you sure it's a good idea that we-"

She kissed him again, silencing his words. His mouth moved against hers, the pressure hard as her hands slipped around his frame, tugging at the edges of his shirt in an attempt to remove it. His fingers delicately touched the perk, swells of her nipples, feeling her tense slightly as his thumb ran against the nub of one, twisting it lightly between his fingers. Through their few occasions of sex, he had never really explored her body. Never taken the chance to feel every part of her. And as she let out a breathy moan, he only found his manhood to grow more erect, hands pressing against her chest.

"Love you," she murmured in his ear, the words sending a shiver up his spine. "So much."

She undid his jeans, sliding her hand down until her fingers grasped his manhood. It was a little awkward from how she sat straddled on his lap, the slope of her stomach pressed against his body as her thumb ran over the top of the head. He muttered her name, the word escaping in a husky tone as she kissed him once more, the action more fervent than the last. Slowly she began to pump, the movements steady at first before becoming more erratic.

"Fuck," he hissed, swallowing hard as he leaned back against the wall. "Beth..."

They were in a church. A goddamn church having sex. But none of that seemed so terrible right now. When Beth released him, he shifted against her slightly as he allowed his pants to slide to the ground. Spreading her legs, he spared no moment as he entered her, feeling her stiffen as he gripped her hips tightly. He began to thrust, holding her close as each movement pushed him deeper towards her core.

"Daryl," she breathed, her voice hoarse.

"I got ya," he murmured, forehead pressed to her shoulder.

With one final thrust, Beth reached her climax. She shuttered against Daryl's body, the archer soon following her into the oblivion that was comfort. Daryl leaned against the wall, panting softly as his wife lay against him. The muffled sounds of conversation outside the door could be heard, but Daryl was far from caring at this point. All that matter was being in this moment. Forgetting everything else as if the door blocked the worries and terrors that lurked on the outside.

"We're gonna be okay," Beth whispered, her head resting against his chest. "What ever happens, we're gonna be just fine."

He felt her place his hand on her stomach, feeling Wyatt squirm from within. He wanted to believe her words. Wanted to believe everything would be alright. But he knew now that such would hardly be the case. But for her sake, he nodded, uncertain of the dangers that would soon befall them both in such a short amount of time.

**I am sorry this was so short. I'm really going through a lot right now, so it was hard enough to write this. I'll be okay though. Feedback is greatly loved and appreciated. Let me know your thoughts, I appreciate each and every message. I could use a little boost right now. Anyway, I have a great deal planned for the next chapter. All I'll say is the group is about to get A LOT smaller. A lot. So until tomorrow, my friends. -Jen**


	52. Chapter forty eight

**Thank you all for your kind words, I really appreciate it. I'm feeling much better this morning. Anywho, as usual, a multitude of thanks to zombiegirl56, Anara, bluebook1496, brady66, lulu52, crimsonrose0003, kristelalugo, Katarzyna88gb, Twiheart0124, Ela1980, igotexiled2x, DarylDixon'sLover, kevkye, An Amber Pen, heatherrk, KTstoriesandstuff, Lauralove163, blesdirishangel, Lau8, tattdkiki, sergensaf, rckyfrk, Tania Ibarbia, Arwen, gwenstacy, Natercia, Joise, Dixongurl, maryjanewatson, Smidget, ArtGirlie815, malzateb, Cat, maryjanewatson, gwenstacy, MamaDCB, Serialkillingyou, and angelicedg for your awesome feedback messages! Now it's time for the next chapter! Also shout-out to my gals in the bethyl chat! Thanks for making me feel like a celebrity last night!**

Chapter forty eight:

It had been a week since the Penny's death, her grave marked only with a mere wooden cross constructed by Tyreese some time prior. The church was proving to be a safe place, though Rick had plans to begin the journey towards Washington once more. But until then, the makeshift refuge camp proved to be useful. Those who needed rest were able to get it, the children played with what little toys Father Gabriel's congregation had collected for charity, and those who were skilled at hunting gathered squirrels and other mammals once the cans had become scarce.

Beth's pregnancy had too progressed, Wyatt's movements becoming more often felt and even slightly visible if one paid close enough attention. But as the days wore on, it was clear that it had begun to take its toll on her. Though she was far from admitting it, Daryl could tell that her ankles pained her whenever she walked and she often felt tired even if she hadn't done any activities that day. But never once did she complain, her face always bearing the same smile as she assured her husband that everything was perfectly fine. And for awhile, it felt like it was going to be.

"You want my squirrel," Daryl murmured quietly, offering the meager portion of his meal to his wife.

"I'm fine," Beth assured him, enunciating the words slightly. "I've had quite enough rodent to last me until dinner."

Daryl's eyes flickered over to Merle, his brother greedily digging into his own meal. He didn't talk much to the other members of the group, Daryl surprised enough that his brother had yet to try to convince him to steal all of the supplies and run off with him. But he had for the most part stopped commenting on his relationship to Beth, even suggesting a middle name when he'd overheard the two trying to figure one out.

"Asskicker," he said with a snort. "Works for either gender."

Beth had merely given him a small smile, though it was clear that such was far from a choice for a name. Daryl exhaled, shifting in his seat as he glanced towards the door. Despite the peacefulness, no one had really dared to go outside unless it was to gather food. The walkers were growing more prevalent in the area, which made Rick's decision to start to move again that much more important.

"I'm gonna miss it here," Beth sighed, looking to Daryl with a small smile.

"Yeah," he muttered. "Me too."

Beth's hand rested on her large stomach, a larger smile gracing her lips as she felt Wyatt wiggle about. Just a few more months, the baby would be born. That was, if everything went as planned. She was ill, that much had been made known to them both by Milton. The doctor regularly checked up on Beth, doing what he could despite his lack of medical equipment. For someone with her condition, Beth was holding up surprisingly well. Something Daryl was overly grateful for.

"What are you thinkin' about," Daryl asked, looking towards his wife. "Ya got that look on your face."

"It's such a nice day," she exclaimed, arms wrapping around her abdomen. "I was thinkin' we could maybe go for a walk? A short one, just the two of us."

"It ain't safe," he replied. "We don't wanna attract the damn walkers."

"It's been days since I've seen the sun," Beth answered softly. "Even just to stand outside for a little while would be nice."

Daryl inhaled heavily through his nose, looking around at the others. He knew Beth was beginning to develop a small case of cabin fever. It had, after all, only been a select few who had ventured from the church. Exhaling, he nodded his head as he stood up. Holding out his hand, he helped the girl rise, fingers interlocking with hers as he glanced towards Rick. The man eyed the curiously, looking from his spot where Judith played with blocks along side her brother.

"We're jus' steppin' outside," he muttered, following Beth towards the door.

For what one could only assume was winter, the air was surprisingly warm. Daryl watched as Beth stretched, wincing slightly as her muscles adjusted to the movement. She turned to him, a smile playing on her lips as she reached for his hand. Together they made their way down the few steps, walking towards the forest. Daryl felt the weight of his bow on his shoulder as he and Beth traveled along, his eyes open and alert in case something were to suddenly come into their line of travel.

"We need to find you a weddin' ring," Beth smirked, eyeing her husband playfully.

"I ain't look good in no jewelry," he admitted.

"All the same," she replied. "I feel like I need to get you somethin' since you got me somethin'."

"You ain't gotta worry bout that," he replied. "I ain't need nothin'."

Leaves crunched underneath their feet as they continued on, going an opposite direction than where Penny had been found. Daryl wasn't exactly comfortable with being out in the open like this. Especially not with Beth. But he knew she needed to stretch her legs and soon enough, they'd be traveling to Washington. A small hike never hurt anyone and he was well equipped if something were to happen.

"Daryl," Beth said after a few moments of silence. "I...I want you to promise me somethin'."

The archer stiffened slightly, not liking the sound of her words. He began to walk faster, Beth at his heels as they moved deeper into the forest. Without the sun, it felt colder underneath the trees. Goosebumps began to laden Daryl's skin, enough so that he wanted to turn back. But that wasn't the only reason he felt the need to abandon the walk now.

"What," he muttered, not wanting to meet her stare.

"If somethin' happens to me, promise you'll save Wyatt over-"

"No," Daryl said, rounding to face her. "No, ain't gonna promise somethin' like that cause it ain't gonna happen."

"Daryl," she persisted. "I need to know that he'll be okay."

He turned away, not wanting to face her now. How could she make him promise something like that? Was that her whole reason for wanting to go out into the woods? To be away from the others so she could confess this to him? How was he to choose one life over another? Fingers clenched at his side, he gazed in the direction that they came. Wanting nothing more than to be back at the church and forget any of this had happened.

"We should go," he muttered. "It's gettin' late."

Beth didn't respond, only followed her husband as they made their way back towards the church. It was awkward to say the least, and he knew Beth was upset with him. But that wasn't important. She could be angry with him all she wanted. If it came down to it, god forbid, he already knew who he'd choose to save. Exhaling, he wiped his brow, looking towards the opening of the woods. In that moment, he froze, eyes locking on the sight before them.

"Beth," he hissed. "Run."

"Why," she finally spoke. "Daryl, what's-"

It was then she too caught the sight. For at the base of the building, pushing to get into its doors, were at least fifty or so walkers. Daryl's blood ran cold as a few turned, catching notice of the archer and his wife. Pulling his crossbow from his shoulder, he turned to Beth, a look of desperation slipping into his features as he managed to take down one of the creatures.

"Run!"

**First off, I promise not to separate Beth and Daryl. That is the only spoiler I will give. Sorry for the short chapter, I have to head to work today but I promise I will get something posted tomorrow as well-hopefully if all goes accordingly. Feedback is greatly loved and appreciated. It really keeps the updates coming daily! If you would take a moment of your time to leave even the smallest of feedback messages, I would greatly appreciate it! Until next update, my readers! -Jen**


	53. Important Message

**I am so sorry this isn't a chapter, but I wanted to inform you all that I did something stupid and I'm now in the ICU at the hospital. I've apparently been here for a few days but only remember one. I promise to delete this once a real chapter is posted, but I wanted to let you know what's going on. I am so sorry. I feel like I've failed you.**


	54. Chapter forty nine

**Thank you all for your messages and concerns. I won't go into detail, but I just got out of the hospital last night (technically at one this morning). I'm still emotionally and physically struggling but I really missed this story so I thought I could do a short update. An overwhelming amount of gratitude to Bethyl Forever99, sportschick44 , RusticWolfxx, Nurse jean, abuu, Star2305, Lau8, Lauralove163, Serialkillingyou, pamela856, Tania Ibarbia, Shanweena, Sarah, gwenstacy, KelseyNicole08, Lena, Buffyverse, fsun1621, Istoleyourflannel, ArtGirlie815, igotexiled2x, LegoMama0614, sergensaf , heatherrk, Winged Pages, FluffyTwinkies, Beth Dixon , tis-almost-canon, MamaDCB, Fremione-lover16, An Amber Pen, kristelalugo, maryjanewatson, Twiheart0124, T, karaburnes, zombiegirl56, kevkye, StephMcG, malzateb, DanAlaya, Bobtastico, delenamashed, engineergirl86, Ela1980, Bluemom, asseylum, LitLover1228, mhustler, nightdrive23, Dixongurl, Scifigirl22, Katarzyna88gb , Spoonlicker, booklover1989, DarylDixon'sLover, and angelicedg for leaving such kind feedback comments. Now let's get to that update!**

Chapter forty nine:

_Run!_

Dozens of them, seemingly wandering from every angle of the property. Their mouths hung open, jaws detached on some as those that abandoned the church sauntered towards the couple. Daryl's crossbow tug into the skin of his palms as he fired another arrow, taking only one of the many walkers that lumbered towards them. Beth remained at his side, unmoved as she withdrew her own, small knife. Desperation and urgency twisted in the archer's chest as he threw a look towards his wife, wanting nothing more for her to just disappear.

"Get outta here," he protested, sending another arrow into the rotting skull of a creature. "Now!"

"I'm not gonna leave you," she insisted. "Not again!"

"This ain't the time to argue," Daryl replied, nudging her back as he withdrew another piece of his weapon. "Leave now!"

She was in no condition to fight, whether Beth was willing to admit it at this stage or not. But that wasn't the archer's only reason for wanting the girl to escape. After everything they'd been through, she had slipped from between his fingers more than once. Something he desired more than anything not to happen again. Yet now, in the presence of such a tremendous danger, her safety ranked itself more than even laying eyes upon her figure again.

"Beth," frustration was slipping into his tone now. "Run!"

The horde only seemed to be growing in size, fingers digging into the old wood of the church's door. Whether the others were still inside, that much was unknown to Daryl. If so, their barricade would only hold for so long. Daryl exhaled through his nose, pushing back against Beth as the walkers drew closer. Relief found him briefly when she turned away, abandoning her position at his side.

"Find the road," he called to her. "I'll meet you!"

The sound of her footsteps were drowned out by the groans of the undead. Daryl positioned his bow, taking a few steps deeper into the woods. The circulation in his fingers was seemingly cut off the tighter he gripped the object, his feet tearing into the dirt as he whipped around to follow his wife. Twigs and branches clawed at his flesh as he ran, blinding him at some points as he struggled to find his way in the direction he informed his spouse.

Rick and the rest of the group were nothing more than a distant thought as Daryl fought his way through the brush, the sounds of the walkers becoming more infrequent as he pushed himself out onto the dirt road. He wiped away at the blood that slipped down his temples and the brim of his nose, escaping from mere scratches as the wounds burned and itched despite the coursing adrenaline.

"Beth," he called out, peering around expecting to see the woman emerge from the woods. "Beth!"

Expectation slowly morphed into fear as he began to hurry down the road, gaze flashing from every side as he looked in desperation for the blonde. If something had happened to her, if he had accidentally forced her into more danger than he had meant to... The thoughts twisted in his mind, stomach knotting up with nausea as something rustled in the bushes ahead. The archer withdrew his bow, inhaling as he pointed the weapon towards the bramble.

"Daryl," Beth exhaled, hands held up as she stepped out. "Daryl, it's just me!"

The crossbow nearly fell from the archer's grasp as relief washing over him like a tidal wave. It took all the restraint he had not to envelop his wife into an embrace when he noticed the thin branches and trees shifting behind her. It was then that he caught sight of three figure emerging from their place in the woods. Faces scratched and clothes newly dirtied as they met his gaze with blank expressions and one wearing an all too familiar smirk.

Carol. Milton. And Merle.

**I'm sorry this is short and crappy. I'm really out of it right now, but that's no excuse for mistakes. So you finally have the shorten group: Daryl, Beth, Milton, Merle, and Carol. Where are the others? I cannot disclose that yet. But if I included Milton, you know what that might mean in the not too distant future... Feedback's greatly loved and appreciated. I promise my writing will get better once I'm back in the swing of things. Thank you all again for your kind messages, it really meant a lot and seriously is helping me through all that I'm currently struggling with. -Jen**


	55. Chapter fifty

**Short chapter, I'm balancing this story in between all the homework I have for school to catch up on. But I may update again later on tonight. Depends if motivation finds me. You guys incredible, I cannot stress that enough! Huge thanks to SilentFlame13, kevkye, malzatebTwiheart0124, blesdirishangel, bluebook1496, maryjanewatson, Joise, ArtGirlie815, Smidget, Tania Ibarbia, Dixongurl, gwenstacy, Spoonlicker, kristelalugo, rckyfrk, Anara, lulu52, An Amber Pen, Bluemom, Star2305, Katarzyna88gb, CoolCat0720, zombiegirl56, angelicedg , tattdkiki, Bethyl Forever99, Loves2Paint, Ela1980, Natrcia, LitLover1228, fsun1621, DarylDixon'sLover, MamaDCB, jcolunga96, Guest, crimsonrose0003, sederiana, sportschick44, and jeanf for your lovely reviews! Now for the next chapter!**

Chapter fifty:

A few moments passed before anyone spoke, perhaps most expecting the rest of the group to emerge from some part of the forest. When they did not, it was Merle who first cleared his throat, scratching at his stubble with his one good hand. Daryl watched his brother from his wife's side, the elder seemingly unfazed by what just occurred. Milton, who still appeared visibly frightened, remained at Carol's side, the woman still, expressionless as all eyes landed on the oldest Dixon sibling.

"Guess it's jus' the five of us then," he inquired, tone almost humorous. "Wouldn't be so damn terrible if one of us got rations."

"We ain't leavin' Rick and the rest," Daryl replied coldly, meeting his brother's stare. "We ain't do that sort of thing."

"Look around you, little brother," Merle scoffed, arms outstretched. "Place is just 'bout overrun. If they ain't dead now, they sure as hell ain't gonna be waitin' around for us to end up like that."

"He's right," Carol agreed quietly. "We need to keep moving. If they ended up going this way, we'll catch up with them eventually. But it makes no sense to stick around. We...aren't exactly that equipped at the moment to take on a herd that size."

Daryl chewed on the inside of his cheek, clearly bothered by his limited choices. Carol was right and as much as he regretted to think so, so was Merle. His eyes flickered over to Beth, noting how her hand now reached down and gripped the hilt of her knife. She as well as Milton weren't the best fighters-not that Beth hadn't ever been good. He'd remembered well enough what happened when the walkers had broken through Hurndon's northern wall. Except then, Beth hadn't been pregnant as she was now. Nor did she have some long ass condition that he struggle to recall the name of.

"C'mon," he muttered, throwing his bow over his shoulder. "Rick moves fast. We're gonna have to start walkin' if we ever hope to catch up to 'em."

"Ain't gotta tell me twice," Merle muttered, exhaling as he shoved past Milton. "Lead the way, brother."

It had been awhile since Daryl had been in such a small group. In the beginning of it all, he and Merle had done what they could alone. Regretfully, he'd refuse to admit, maybe even stealing from some on the road. But that was before Hurndon, before he had been certain that his sibling was gone. Gravel crunched underneath their feet as they continued to move, Milton's hand shakily resting on his pistol despite his lack of ability in being able to properly shoot. Daryl wouldn't ever understand why Rick had given the man a gun in the first place, but he knew better than to usually question the sheriff's judgement.

"I swear to fuckin' christ," Merle hissed, eyeing the doctor with a look of disdain. "If you accidentally fire that thing into my leg, I'm gonna slit your throat before you even realize it's comin'."

"Sorry," Dr. Mamet replied, his voice wavering as he removed his hand from the weapon. "Guess I'm just nervous."

"It's alright to be," Beth assured him, her mouth curving into a small smile. "I think we're all a little uneasy right now."

"Speak for yourself, jailbait," Merle snorted. "I ain't scared of nothin'."

Daryl didn't doubt his brother's words. Even in the face of death, Merle had still regained control of himself. Perhaps it was the years in prison that toughened him up, or merely their unusual childhood. Whatever the case, Daryl knew well enough that Merle would have gladly taken the herd on his own, despite his willingness to leave. He wouldn't be viewed as a coward. No, he was too fond of his pride for that.

"You holdin' up alright?" The archer inquired, turning his head to look to Carol. "Haven't talked much."

"I've got to hold up, don't I?" The older woman mumbled, gazing towards the distance. "Just have a lot to think about, is all."

It was an honest response, he'd give her that much. But lately he felt, though Daryl wasn't that good with reading emotions, that Carol was becoming more distant. What he had done to upset her, if anything, he was unsure. Yet Carol seemed to avoid him whenever he hung around her, something she hadn't displayed at all through the few years of their friendship. Maybe if he found the chance, he'd confront her about it.

"Baby keeps movin'," Beth stated after several minutes of conversation-less silence past. "It's such a weird feelin'."

"He'll calm down soon enough once he gets bigger," Carol informed her quietly. "There won't be enough room for him to wiggle freely. Sophia was the same way. Though, she took to leaning against my bladder for the last few weeks."

"I just wanna see his face," the girl responded, eyes flickering down to her stomach. "Just to know that he's okay, you know?"

"Yeah," the other woman mumbled. "I get it."

Daryl remained close to Beth's side as they moved further down the road, unable to see any sign of Rick yet as they went. The archer's hopes began to die down as the road extended into a small highway, the path ahead void of any markers or assurance that the rest of the group had passed through there. He prayed soon enough they'd come across them, knowing more people meant more protection. Food. Decisions. But as the minutes ticked away, such a future seemed bleak. Hesitant acceptance growing more prominent the further they traveled.

**A lot of bethyl planned for the next chapter, guys. And I promise things will get longer again. Once more, I am updating while trying to juggle schoolwork so things might be a little on the short side until I'm completely caught up. Feedback's greatly loved and appreciated! Let me know your thoughts, what you'd like to see. Even ideas for conversations between characters you're interested in them having! As I said above, I may update later on tonight, but no promises! Until next time, folks! -Jen**


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